Getting Away
by MyMagentaPeach
Summary: When Blaine finds himself unable to return home he finds a roof over his head with the Hummels and something so much closer to home than he had ever been lead to trust could exist for him. Set in Season 2. Warnings: Self-harm,Talk of Suicide,Child Abuse. KLAINE, BAROLE
1. All Too Much,  All Too Dark

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee.

**A/N: **Not a one-shot for Shots Of Love, after this took a turn for the dark. I discovered though, I really like writing Carole and Burt. To have parents who…*sighs*

**Kurt and Blaine got together **when Dalton started back up after the Christmas break** of Season 2, so some time before '_The Sue Sylvester Bowl Shuffle: AKA Thriller'_.**

This fic starts in the first weeks of February, before Valentine's Day.

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><p><strong>All Too Much, All Too Dark<br>**

At Dalton it have been a tiring couple of days.

Both Kurt and Blaine after studying hard the night before - for an upcoming chemistry test the next week - really just want to stay in tonight.

Get to Lima, stay in and cuddle on the old comfortable couch in the Hummels' living room, but they have promised Burt and Carole to go, so here they are.

Here being a room somewhere in a town about an hour's drive outside of Westerville. High ceiling, high windows - not that that matters, not now that it is already dark outside.

The bad lighting hurts Kurt's eyes as they walk in, holding hands, and it take a moment for them to adjust.

xxxx

Kurt does not know what to expect from a PFLAG meeting, but he most certainly had not expected this...ever.

"Karofsky?"

Blaine's eyes immediately snap up from where he has been rummaging for a piece of gum in the bag hanging from his left shoulder.

_I must have heared Kurt wrong. _He has heard him right.

_How can this just...how...? _Blaine thinks staring ahead in shock. They haven't even come here for himself, or Kurt, tonight.

They are here for Burt. With Burt, and Carole, who have both been asking about PFLAG since a parent at Dalton had mentioned it to them when they had dropped Kurt off after a weekend visit to Lima last December.

With Kurt and Blaine having come directly from Dalton, with a promise to meet Kurt's parents here, they are early. To Blaine standing frozen still it feels like Burt and Carole are late, very much so.

Blaine keeps nervously glancing between his boyfriend, Dave, and the door. A couple of people file in a moment later, Burt and Carole among them.

Blaine looks back to Kurt one more time. He takes a step towards Burt to…but it is too late, Burt has spotted his son standing in front of "Karofsky!"

Blaine flinches at the angry sound Burt carries in his voice, expecting it is still so different from hearing the angry sound.

Carole walks over to Blaine as she sees him flinch even more when Burt storms past him. She puts her right arm gently around his shoulder, "Hey, Honey, it's okay."

Blaine gets like that a lot, shuts down when voices are raised and angry looks show on people's faces, Carole has noticed before. She hates seeing him like that.

Kurt has told them a while back about Blaine having had trouble, too, at his last school before Dalton.

Kurt had been curled up crying in his Dad's arms some time during Christmas break, after not having heard from Blaine for a couple of days in a row, worried sick. It had been a nightmare, that had triggered the opening up. After dozing off on the couch one Saturday afternoon Kurt had woken up wrapped in his father's arms. It had taken Kurt to realize he had started sobbing in his sleep, and to take in his dad's words,_ "Shh, I got you, I got you. It's okay. You're okay."_ It had been months since the last time this had happened, since the last time Kurt had allowed this to happen, always careful to hold back after his dad's heart attack. But the fears had been overwhelming that day and Kurt had no longer possessed the energy to hold back, _"They were hurting him, they were hurting him and I wasn't there, I couldn't do anything."_

She can still hear Kurt's sobs that had taken painfully long to die away that day, and only to be replaced with breathing so strained, the sound along was painful to perceive, and the memory of it today still stirrs tears in her she can barely keep out of her eyes, others' sight.

Carole hopes Blaine will confide more in Kurt soon. She can see the uncertainties of what exactly happened to Blaine, the nightmares and worries they cause Kurt, eating away at him. A side she suspects Kurt is careful to never let anyone else see if he can help it. Most of all..."Blaine."

She guides him gently over to where Kurt is still standing, in front of Dave, now Burt by his side.

"What are you doing here? Looking for new people to bully, now that Kurt is at Dalton?"

Burt sounds angry, and Blaine cannot bring himself to look up at anyone. Eyes firmly fixed on the floor, he still reaches over to take Kurt's left hand gently in his right, the other clutching the strap of his bag, too hard, knuckles turning white.

Blaine can feel Kurt tense for a second under the touch. So Blaine begins to gently soothes an apology into Kurt's skin, drawing wide circles with his thumb.

They simulataneously each take a step closer to the other, sides touching now. It is a surprisingly comforting touch to both of them and a moment later their hands are intertwined further.

Burt is still waiting for an answer from Dave, "What are you doing here? I will throw you out with my own hands if I have to."

"I'm gay," it is a murmur under Dave's breath but Burt still catches it.

"Excuse me?" Burt is so confused now, even the anger slips from his mind for a brief moment.

"He is gay. Dad," Kurt's voice, trailing off with the last word, confirms what Burt had thought he had heard but is still not sure how to take, or if even to believe. _Kurt wouldn't joke about this_, is the thought that enters Burt's mind as he tries to make sense of this whole situation.

"Kurt, what are you two talking about? He has been harassing you for years, and now you both tell me he is," Burt turns back to Dave, "_you_ are gay?"

"Dad, please can we just leave. I _cannot_ do this right now. It's too much."

Burt hearing how choked up Kurt already sounds is bitterly reminded off how recent it has been that Kurt has escaped _all that pain_, so he is not going to put him through _Whatever This Is_ right now.

Turning and pulling Kurt into his arms Burt says in a voice as soothing as he can master in this setting and with a mind muddled with thoughts feeling so wild in their newness still, "Okay, Kiddo. Of course, of course we can go. Let'S do that."

And Burt feels Kurt breathe uneven and heavy as Kurt buries his face in his dad's shoulder.

xxxx

Outside, night air cold and clear things should maybe feel lighter already, they don't.

Burt walking with Carole across the parking lot, Blaine and Kurt just ahead of them, hates to see how shaken and unsteady both boys are on their feet - hands still tightly clasped, the boys unmistakably lifelines to each other.

They reach Blaine's car first.

When Blaine moves to get his keys out Burt gently places a hand on the boys shoulder, Blaine flinches utterly too much for such a light touch.

Burt hopes he will one day understand, be able to help with this too, right now he wants to make sure everyone gets home safe, "You two are not driving again tonight. I have a job to do around here tomorrow, so I'll pick up your car then. You're staying with us tonight anyway, right Blaine?"

Blaine nods and Burt can see him relax a little.

xxxx

Blaine and Kurt are cuddled up in the backseat, Carole, having insisted that Burt, too, take it easy tonight, driving.

Burt keeps glancing back at them from the passenger seat, so misses Carole glancing over at him with the same worried expression.

They both though cannot miss the boys talking with each other in hushed voices throughout the whole drive, clearly trying to avoid being overheard.

Finally, ten minutes away from their home, "Dad?"

"Yes?"

Turning around to face them, Burt can see the tears, heavy as they are it is impossible to miss them, even so Blaine keeps reaching over and gently brushing every single one newly making its path down Kurt's face away before they can even so much as reach Kurt's cheekbones.

"He…I…I never wanted to keep it from you," whatever more there is Kurt wants to say, it is swallowed by chocked sounds in the next second, drowning out all comprehension.

"I am here for you, Kurt. I am always here for you. Please tell me." Burt, as worried as he has been ever since they ran into Karofsky manages to sound calm.

They are on the last strip of road, running along the wide fields surrounding the town. It is completely deserted at this time of night.

About half a mile ahead, Carole will, in a moment, take the turn into the first street sparsely lined with houses, most abandoned.

"He kissed me. Back at McKinley. He kissed me."

Carole brakes hard, and turns off the car, only leaving on the lights, so the vehicle is not swallowed whole by the utter darkness covering the fields.

She turns in her seat, a look of horror on her face, "He assaulted you?"

Burt is still speechless when Carole, after a quick glance in her side mirror gets out of the car and climbs into the backset next to Kurt, pulling him into a comforting hug. "It was my first kiss. He stole it," he sobs.

Burt eventually finds his voice again, "That is why he threatened to kill you." Burt sinks his gaze in sadness. When he looks back up he sees Kurt buried even deeper in Carole's embrace.

His eyes find Blaine. The boy is sitting there, legs tugged against his chest, holding himself, alone. Looking lost and haunted, staring into space, eyes hard, shinning with unshed tears.

"Blaine?"


	2. Dark Frost

**A/N: **

I received quite a few favorites and story alerts for this, and even one review, so I decided to continue it.

Thank You, I hope my writing will live up to expectations. I am trying hard to get better and better, so feedback would be really inspiring and so SO much appreciated.

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><p><strong>Dark Frost<strong>

His whole body is vibrating with pain.

As he flinches away from the touch his mind follows him with thoughts knowing no decency, no mercy, always there no matter where he goes: _No!...Oh gosh! What if he could feel it?...IT HURTS SO MUCH,...Why won't it stop!I need it to stop. Please stop. I can't…I just…I can't…Oh, please._

__Running, it is the only thing that has ever helped at all, getting away, from others, himself. More than once Blaine has sat there, pills in hand, it would be so wonderfully easy.

But then there had been Kurt and everything just a little brighter, and he himself feeling so much less empty.

Tonight he knows the darkness still is there. And he tries to tell himself, to convince himself that memories are just that, past. _Are not present, don't have to be my future, past, just past._ But they won't leave, they are. Memories still so tightly knit, unravelling never, taking up his every thought, taking away all sense,"…there is no getting through."

He never meant to speak these words, never has before to more than the thin, cold air of an empty, dark room. _They aren't meant for others to hear. Why would they care anyway?They never do, no one ever has. They won't. I can't._

And then there is nothing but the pain of new pressure weighing down on him...again.

It is the pressure of questions that have been hanging thick, unpenetrable in the air ever since he had first met Kurt's family. Thoughts unbearably heavy now that words are attached to them. Crushing Blaine's insides, grinding Blaine down, more and more.

"What do you mean, there is no getting through?" Burt is standing next to Blaine, car door to Blaine's side of the backseat wide open, the boy inside curled up on himself even further now.

Burt's hand is still midair in the space out of which Blaine could not help withdraw, for fear – it appears to Burt – off the man's touch bringing _Pain?_

The thought alone frightens Burt. And he wishes, so badly, to know what is going on in the boy's head.

The cold night air still filtering into Blaine's space brings the pain with it, dragging on his clothes, creeping under them, tearing on his skin.

With no getting away from it the feel of the space shrinking, what little is left spinning, makes Blaine nauseous. The only thing still keeping down the Dalton dinner from earlier is the pain pushing _all_ of him down into a carseat that suddenly feels harder, almost like it is cutting into him. And while his hands pat around, looking for footing on the soft material, all his mind allows him to feel is cold, hard, cutting ground, too unsteady to sit or stand on,...under his fingers.

Something dislodges a second later, Blaine has no idea what, but it does not matter anyway anymore, the floodgates have been opened.

Gates to memories he had been able to bury so deep he had almost been able to forget they ever were. Were ever more than memories, were anything real at all, to begin with. He had managed, survived all these years telling himself that..._Nightmares are just like dreams. Not true. Never...Never true._

The black frost perishing his senses draws it all out, the torturing deadness he remembers feeling, having to drag around in himself, before Kurt, for so long. Too long. But now there are glimpses of more, things that just don't make sense, make sickness rise in his gut. _What is happening to me? _

Burt follows and takes a step closer not a step back as Blaine stumbles past him out of the car and throws up violently at the side of the road.

The touch appearing on Blaine's back, intended to be comforting, gentle, has him remember... _Nightmares. Only Nightmares... and_ sink to his knees, onto the ground, whimpering, "Please don't."

Blaine loses, following his sense of self, all feeling for time too.

He comes to to hear Kurt's voice, "Blaine. Blaine please look at me."

Blaine turns his head hesitantly to the left, following the loving sound that has kept him sane so many nights already, being held in the warmth of Kurt's embrace.

There are tears in both boys' eyes as they meet in each others gazes.

The ground they are cowering on is hard, frozen, hurting Kurt's knees as soon as they touch it. He doesn't care, does not even feel it, all senses focused on Blaine, Blaine alone.

Blaine turns further to follow the movement of Kurt's hands.

He sees Kurt taking of what Blaine knows to be one of Kurt's favorite pieces of clothing. One of his most prized possessions. The first thing he pulls out of the closet and puts on whenever they are allowed out of their uniforms. Be it holidays, weekends or after school activities.

"No," he whimpers for a moment.

Kurt soothes him with his right hand gently running over Blaine's hair, and his left caringly wiping the vomit of Blaine's mouth with the fabric so precious to Kurt.

"Not your favorite scarf," Blaine chokes out with a heavy, broken voice.

"It's fine," Kurt presses a kiss to Blaine's tearstained cheek.

"But the material is ruined, you will never get those stains out."

Kurt shrugs then helps Blaine to his feet, "I'll get a new one."

xxxx

Kurt helps Blaine to his feet and into the backseat of the car.

The rest of the drive is over quick, and with everyone shaken, no more words are spoken.

In fact, Blaine does not speak a single word for the rest of the night.

After both boys have taken a shower and changed into pyjamas, they sit down on the living room couch.

Blaine can barely bring himself to open his mouth far enough to sip his chamomile tea.

Kurt takes a few sips from his own mug then puts it down on the small table beside the couch.

He is careful not to startle Blaine, tries to make his voice as soft as he knows how, but Blaine still freezes for a moment at the first words filling the room, "I am going to put my arms around you now, Love. Okay? You can lean your back against my chest if you want. It might make things more comfortable."

Blaine replies with a nod cut in half by hesitation.

It takes a moment to settle into a truly comfortable position, more importantly, one comforting to Blaine.

With one hand resting splayed across Blaine's stomach, the other gently running up and down Blaine's right arm, and his back indeed resting against Kurt's chest, Kurt cannot miss the brief hitch in Blaine's breathing at the change in touch.

Blaine closes his eyes, tries hard to settle into the softness of his boyfriend's touch. No one else has touched him with so much love, so much care and affection ever before. But right now he does not want to think about all the darkness that lurks behind this thought, so he tries hard to focus, to feel, really feel the love that lies in the gentle touches.

Finally, Kurt's loving ministrations help him to relax enough to allow the soothing warmth of the mild liquid to enter his body.

A single lamp sitting on the table next to Kurt's mug is giving of an orange glow.

It is the only light on in the room, with some more brighter light filtering into their space from the kitchen, where Burt and Carole are still talking in even but somehow still urgent sounding voices.

Kurt's mug, still almost completely filled, is forgotten on the table this night, as he continues to try and comfort Blaine, to spend warmth where he knows it is needed.

Blaine moves to the side a little, turns his head and smiles at Kurt in question when his mug is empty.

The smile looks so forced Kurt can feel the tears wanting to rise in him. So what he does next he does as much to comfort himself as to comfort Blaine.

Kurt places a soft kiss to Blaine's forehead, who closes his eyes savoring the intimacy of the gesture. When he opens them again the mug has somehow changed hands and Kurt is leaning a little to his left to put it down next to his own.

Blaine snuggles deep into Kurt's side, holding him now too around the waist. Kurt shifts a little to provide more of the touch Blaine seeks.

It does not take long until Burt and Carole pass them, wishing them a good night.

Burt is about to take the first step to the upper floor when he hears his son's voice.

"Dad, does Blaine have to sleep on the couch tonight?"

Kurt can feel Blaine stir nervously in his arms, his breathing speeding up again at the thought of having to spend the night alone. In the dark.

"No, of course not, Kiddo. What gave you that idea?"

And Kurt does not miss it either this time, the instant reaction, the change in breathing once again, this time for the better, he hopes, as relief washes over Blaine at hearing Burt's gentle answer.

"He has never spent the night since we started dating, so I just wanted to check if the rules have changed."

"No, Kiddo, they haven't. Goodnight," Burt smiles softly at both boys.

"Goodnight," Kurt replies and Blaine is struggling for a moment to open his mouth to at least echo the gesture, if not the sound. But even that is too much. Making any sound. He can't, not now, not tonight, so he doesn't and instead buries his head, eyes squeezed shut tightly, in slight embarrassment and in search of comfort deep in Kurt's chest.

As Kurt runs both his hands through Blaine's hair, comfortingly, over and over, not wanting Blaine to ever forget he is right here with him, Burt and Kurt exchange a brief look of pained concern, then Burt is following Carole, who has already disappeared a moment ago, up the stairs. Carole, understanding Blaine does not need the added pressure of more eyes on him today, choosing an early exit.

Not able to bear the thought of stealing away the comfort Blaine finds in his arms, not even for a single moment, after a while Kurt simply guides them into a lying position. And so Blaine ends up sleeping on the couch anyway that night, but not alone.

It will change everything, that night.

Not one of them knows it yet, but they are about to find out.

Kurt pulls the blanket covering the back of the couch over them. It is usually there to prevent extensive damage to the padding, but it is, too, comfy enough to spend a night wrapped in, especially when already wrapped inside each other's arms.

Snuggling closer to Blaine, Kurt hopes his warmth will reach more than Blaine's outmost layers of cotton PJs and skin, skin that has been looking frighteningly pale ever since Blaine threw up at the side of that all too dark road not long enough ago.


	3. Mind Reaching In The Dark

**A/N: **It took me quite some time to get back to this story. I hope it was worth the wait.

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><p><strong>Mind Reaching In The Dark<strong>

Kurt wakes around 2am.

It takes him a moment to remember where he is, and another to realize that there is something profoundly wrong with the way in which the blanket, having covered him and Blaine when they had drifted off to sleep only a couple of hours ago, is coiled up at his feet. _Like it has been kicked off in a panic._

As the sleep clears from behind his eyes there is another thought, _Blaine! Where…?_

"Blaine. BLAINE!", no answer…, "Dad. DAD! I need you, Dad, please."

In the dark of the room he can hear the muffled sound of steps.

For a moment he dares to hope that it is "Blaine?" simply returning to him from a trip to the bathroom or kitchen, but then he realizes the sounds are coming from upstairs.

Carole's voice grows louder as she comes down the stairs, "Kurt? What is it, Sweety? Your dad will be down in a second." Still a little disoriented herself, after having just been torn from her sleep, Carole looks around the room.

It takes a moment for her eyes to readjust to the dark the living room is still set in, "Where is Blaine?"

She does not need to see Kurt's face to know.

She can hear the pain and horror painted on it, swallowed, obscured by the dark, in the sob that escapes Kurt's mouth before the words, "I don't know. I woke up and he wasn't here anymore. He has never just wandered off before, never. Mom, I'm scared."

Carole pulls him in her arms, and holds him tight as she says, "You check downstairs. And I'll have a quick look upstairs, although I don't know why he would be there. But let me make sure. I send your dad down to help you look. Okay?"

"Y-Yeah," Kurt replies as Carole places a quick kiss to his forehead and releases him from her arms, making her way back upstairs a second later.

xxxx

Within minutes most of the lights in all off the Hudson-Hummel household are flipped on. Hardly any dark corner left at all.

Kurt has already checked the basement and half of downstairs, now running from room to room in a frenzy, calling for "Blaine, BLAINE!", fearing he might be unable to hear or answer, lying somewhere passed out, _He looked so exhausted, even in his sleep._

He runs into his dad a moment later in one of the two downstairs bathrooms.

"Dad," Kurt buries his face and tears in his father's chest, "I can't find him."

As Burt's arms close around his son, the boy turns into a sobbing mess within seconds.

One hand gently pressing into Kurt's hair, holding the distraught boy close, Burt tries to sound sure as he says, "We are going to find him."

Carole appears in the doorway behind Kurt in the next minute. When Burt's eyes meet hers he can see how terribly worried she too is by now. Shaking her head in answer to her husband's questioning look she mouths soundlessly, _"Not upstairs." _

xxxx

Together they quickly check the remaining downstairs rooms, nothing.

"Nothing," Kurt is still in tears as he curls up on himself on the living room couch, crying even harder when his eyes fall again onto the bunched up blanket now next to him, holding no longer any of his own or Blaine's warmth.

Carole joins him and pulls Kurt into her arms.

Burt sits down on his son's other side, and runs a hand in a soothing motion through Kurt's hair, over and over, knowing it is one of the few touches that is only ever calming to Kurt, has been ever since Burt can remember.

Not many people know that the intimacy of the touch is why he does not allow it just anyone. Most people assume it has to do with hair care, style. So Kurt lets them. Saving the truth for the people dearest to him. But now he wishes he was a little less guarded about his feelings, wishes he had already told Blaine, sometime, any time before tonight. He had wanted to, but never found the moment to say it, to explain how it is that really only his dad and Blaine are allowed this close.

xxxx

As a three and four year old Kurt had spent hours sitting on the couch next to his mother, or in her lap.

Running one of her hands over and through Kurt's hair she had read for herself and often to Kurt.

More often than not Burt had witnessed those big, clear blue eyes fluttering shut, when Kurt had fallen asleep while sucking on one of his thumbs, wrapped in the warm feeling of his mother's loving touches.

It is the same couch they are sitting on right now.

Burt had been the one to insist they keep it, longing to hold on to one of his most precious of memories of his wife and son together.

xxxx

Burt is trying to spend comfort alone, but Kurt's thoughts still turn on him. _Blaine does not know that about me yet. There is so much we do not know about each other_.

The thought clenches like a fist around the heart already beating too fast in his chest, makes him more desperate to find Blaine.

But where to look?

_If he isn't inside the house he could be… anywhere._

It has been all so recent, and the weather mostly too cold to spent longer periods outside. So even with all the time Blaine has spent here in the last weeks, they have not shared their special places outside these walls just yet.

The thoughts keep coming, but Kurt cannot make out a single clue as to where his before tonight mostly confident and happy seeming boyfriend could have disappeared to.

It had always seemed enough to be sure of each other's care and affection. Love even, although neither boy has dared to call it that yet in front of the other.

xxxx

Kurt buries his tearstained face in his hands, legs tugged to his chest, all that is keeping him from breaking down completely are Carole's arms around him and his father's soothing touch in his hair.

"Where could he be?" Kurt whispers, voice thick with tears.

There is a dread filled silence then Kurt startles his parents by jumping up, and walking out into the hall.

"Kiddo? Kurt!" Burt's voice is too loud and too shaky to be anything but edging Kurt on more.

Burt and Carole find him sitting on the cold tiles of the hall, pulling on his boots and mumbling "I can't just sit here," as he gets up and reaches for his warmest coat. He lets out a small sob as he notices Blaine's coat is still there. _He must be freezing. _"I need to find him."

"I'll come with you, Kurt. I won't let you go out alone. Especially in the middle of the night," turning to Carole he adds, "I'll get my phone so you can reach us in case he comes back. Okay, Hon?"

But before Carole can answer Kurt runs back into the living room shouting, "His phone."

Kurt grabs his own phone and dials.

There is no answer, and Kurt does not need it.

At the first ring the sound of an instrumental version of _Teenage Dream _fills the room.

Kurt has never before hated hearing it.

Carole, having followed her step-son back into the living room, sees Kurt's shattered expression and instantly pulls him into a bone crushing hug.

Her arms are still around him as she leads him back out into the hallway.

Moments later they are joined by Burt, again, holding his keys and phone in his hands.

He places a kiss on Carole's cheek as he reaches for his winter jacket.

xxxx

It is freezing outside.

The skies are clear and that might give Kurt a clue where to look, if only this had not happened today, if only life had granted them just some more months, weeks, at least, to learn enough about each other to know….

But life has never been this kind to either boy, and apparently it sees no reason to start now.

So Burt and Kurt keep walking, stars bright in the night sky, their light as smooth and clear as the beautiful white marble puzzle piece, infused with bright blue and dark green swirls, that Kurt's fingers have closed around, in the left pocket of his jacket, with the first step out into the night's dark.

xxxx

It had been a present from Blaine, a promise given on the day they had finally confessed their feelings to each other and spent their first night holding each other, in the bed of Blaine's dorm room at Dalton.

They are two of a kind, his and the one Blaine caries, wherever he goes, made to fit each other. Custom made, Blaine has confessed to Kurt only days ago to having ordered them to be made even before Christmas, wanting Kurt to have this, even if he should not share Blaine's deep feelings. That he had them in his pocket the day they sang _Baby It's Cold Outside_.

Handing the piece, now resting between Kurt's fingers, to Kurt, that late night in January, Blaine had held his next to it and whispered to Kurt "Complete, whole. This is how I feel when we are together. Please, Kurt, tell me, do you feel the same?" And he did, and he does.

And then that feeling, so right, that first time they held each other, _I belong. _

xxxx

Tears start running down Kurt's cheeks again, making it harder to see anything at all. So he tries to pull himself together, wipes the tears away and fights hard to hold back the ones already aching to follow.

Even with his dad there, looking for Blaine all Kurt finds is darkness, and the night feeling colder still.

"BLAIIIINNE! BLAIIIIIIINNNE!"

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><p>AN: I feel sad now. That was not supposed to happen. Writing is there to make me feel better. I write to be happy, or when I feel sad, but writing should never make me feel sad. Sorry, sadness ramble over. I needed it though, hope you understand.


	4. Taken By Surprise

**A/N:**

I just could not leave you, or myself hanging.

I reworked the first three chapters quite a bit today, so if you read them when I first posted them you might want to go and re-read them, especially chapters 1 and 2. I hope you like them better this way. I know I do.

Thanxs for reading, M

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><p><strong>Taken…By Surprise<strong>

They don't find him.

They look for over two hours - not a single trace.

Burt can only get Kurt to stop looking when he practically collapses in his dad's arms, the cold creeping into his small frame much faster than his father's robust form.

Burt ends up carrying his crying son the last two-hundred meters back to their home, whispering all the while, "It'll be okay, we'll find him. Please, Kurt, calm down. It'll be okay."

Kurt passes out as the warm air inside the walls hits his freezing form, swallows him whole.

xxxx

It is impossible to let go.

So Burt sits for another half hour on the couch, holding his son wrapped in a blanket to allow a calming warmth to sink back into his bones.

When Kurt's breathing finally evens out, and his body loses the tension held in his unconscious state, together, Carole and Burt, bring him up to his room, cover his feet in some extra warm socks and tug him in.

xxxx

Carole sits watching him another hour, as much out of worry for Burt as Kurt. Knowing her being here with Kurt, in case something should happen, might help Burt get some much needed sleep.

_Blaine needs to be safe, Kurt could not take something happening to him. Gosh, he just needs to be okay. _While Kurt and Burt had been out Carole had informed the police, asked them to keep an eye out for a minor that had gone missing tonight, then given them a description of Blaine. They had told her to file a report with them the next day if there was still no trace of Blaine then.

She finds herself glad, for once, for Finn's utterly unmanageable gaming addiction, and the friendship with Puck that seemes just as indestructible. _At least he is out of harms way._ Finn's tendency to panic in stressful situations really would not have helped anyone tonight._ And__ to think I had thought about forbidding him to spend the night at Puck's. _

Eventually everyone in the house finds sleep that night, no one any though that brings rest.

xxxx

Kurt wakes up, only hours later, with a headache that makes him want to chop of the pounding extremity altogether.

He lets out a shriek a second later.

It is not just that he just woke up in his bed, and has frankly not the faintest idea how he got here.

He hears Carole coming down the hall from his parents' bedroom to his, calling for him, "Sweety, it is okay, we are going to find him. I…."

Her words die away quickly as she opens the door and her gaze falls onto the bed.

"Burt," she calls, turning her head back into the direction she just came from, "He is here."

"Carole, I know we tugged him in last night."

"No, not Kurt. Blaine. He is back."

xxxx

It is the sight of the shivering boy, with the black curls, and the big hazel eyes, right now pressed shut, that is curled into his side, that has Kurt unable to react to anything happening around him.

Burt appears in the door to his son's room a mere second later, staring wide-eyed.

Blaine is lying right there, shivering.

His head is resting on Kurt's chest.

Kurt cannot even tell if he is awake or asleep.

Much less if Blaine, eyes closed so tightly, is trying to keep the daylight filtering through the windows out, or something in.

"Dad," it is not much more than a whisper from Kurt's lips, "I think he might be sick." A hand wandering to touch his boyfriend's forehead gently, carefully brushing against it, has Kurt add, "He is all clammy. I think he is running a fever."

Burt remembers it all too well, Kurt all sickly for months after his mother had died. It had been the stress more than anything, wrecking his little body.

Seeing Blaine like this, curled up and shaking, like an eight-year-old Kurt had lain with him so many nights, Burt cannot let this go and wait and see how it plays out, if help is really needed. Burt cannot risk it, sees too much at stake. How could he possibly allow any more pain coming Blaine's or Kurt's way, after all they have already been through, alone and apparently together.

Burt still blames himself, has spent the whole night, all the hours walking with Kurt, and holding an unconscious and then asleep Kurt, after, on the couch - and even before already, at the roadside with a violently sick Blaine - Burt has spent all this time asking himself how he had not known off, how he had managed not to see all that pain tormenting these two boys.

"We should take him to the doctor, even if only to make sure. It is for the best after the night we all had," Burt finally brings out the words.

Kurt nods, hand, a second ago still gently resting against Blaine's forehead, now tenderly tracing over Blaine's right cheek, and then along his arm, his side, "Baby? Are you awake? Blaine?"

Blaine's eyes slowly open as Kurt's gentle touches seem to sink in.

The disoriented look Kurt receives tells him Blaine had not been awake at all, till, just now.

"Kurt?" Another shiver running through Blaine's body stirs the tears in Kurt. "Why…Kurt, why are you looking at me like this?"


	5. To cry or to scream?

**A/N: **

A sleepwalking Blaine, wouldn't that have been a great solution! Wonderful idea **VitaAmoreRiso**, you tempted me so much to turn it into that.

But no, in my experience life is mostly not that kind, well, in this story being a sleepwalker would have been a good thing for Blaine compared to what is to come. We won't be stumbling in the dark forever, I promise, but it is only getting darker right now, so to be safe I will change the rating to M.

* * *

><p><strong>To cry or to scream? How about a sob instead?<strong>

He is not shaking or pale like Kurt remembers seeing him the last time as they had lain on the couch, together.

Kurt is both, as soon as he hears Blaine's next words.

"No one ever misses me."

But it is really the look of absolute sincerity that Blaine wears saying this that has Kurt breaking down crying.

And the crying only grows harder, the tears more, the air to breathe seemingly less to Kurt, when Blaine's arms come around him and he says, "Whatever it is, it's okay, I am here."

"But you weren't. You weren't last night. I couldn't find you. Dad and I looked and we couldn't find you."

"I didn't,…I didn't know…no one has ever missed me before. No one has even noticed before. I…I…."

Burt tries to keep his voice soft and gentle, "Where did you go last night, Kid? Blaine?", and for this moment, in this moment it works, with Blaine's focus all on Kurt.

"Nowhere, I just…started walking. I do that sometimes, when I'm stressed, I just need to get under the open sky. For the first ten minutes I actually just walked around the backyard, but, it wasn't enough. I needed to feel the air moving cold through the streets last night, just open spaces, just movement, just space, just…everything,…everything….," Blaine's breath hitches thinking about it, and Kurt has grown quiet in his arms now, listening intently to his boyfriend's words.

"Everything felt so closed off, all the spaces so small, too small?" Carole asks softly, taking a step closer, a hand coming to trace over Blaine's curls gently, once, twice.

Blaine swallows hard and nods, then Kurt can feel him, not shaking like last night but, shivering again, just like he had in his sleep just now.

"Blaine, I think you might have a fever. Please let me take you to the doctor."

Blaine looks suddenly nervous, in a way Kurt has never seen him before. Eyes shifting…alarmed, the movement growing rapid, almost frantic until all Blaine seems be able to do is squeeze his eyes shut tightly.

Kurt does not want to have to wonder anymore. Wonder what Blaine is trying to keep out, maybe worse… keep in. "Blaine?"

But Blaine trembling now, just keeps shaking his head, "I just need some sleep, I'll be fine."

"But, Kid," Burt's voice suddenly seeming much louder almost angry to Blaine, "you need to get checked. We want to make sure you…."

The rest of Burt's sentence is drowned out in a sob sounding more like a forcefully muffled scream leaving Blaine's throat, Blaine burying himself deep in Kurt's arms, "No, please, no."

"What is going on…," Burt is only confused now.

This time Carole cuts Burt off. "Don't, Burt, Honey, don't," she says pushing him back out into the hallway, sounding so absolute in a request, sounding more like a demand.

Closing the door to Kurt's room behind them she says, "Don't push him. I think he suffers from claustrophobia."

Burt can see it in the way Carole is biting the inside of her lower lip, _She only ever does this when something is really wrong_, he thinks even more worried now. "What is it Carole?"

Carole sighs deeply, wrapping her arms around herself, and eyes drifting to the floor, "I'm not sure. I mean there can be many causes, and as far as I know science has not determined something definite yet, but…."

"Carole?" Burt asks gently putting his left hand on her right upper arm.

Another heavy sigh, and there are tears in her eyes when she looks back up meeting Burt's gaze again, "…the way he has been acting all along when you get close, or talk a little louder, call for me to please bring more juice with me from the kitchen to the dinner table…Burt, Honey, I think something is really wrong."


	6. With You I Will LookWith You I Might See

**A/N: **More already, yes. And hey, guess what…I was wrong…it is not all that dark after all. I shamfully underestimated Carole's and Kurt's ability to love so flabbergastingly much.

* * *

><p><strong>With You I Will Look With You I Might See<br>**

It has been two weeks, all of which Kurt and Blaine have spent either at Dalton or with Carole, Burt and Finn.

Finn has not picked up on anything being off, so far, and Carole finds herself grateful, thinking, _There are already enough unknowns in this equation._

Valentines came and went, and Kurt and Blaine had spent it looking happy to the point of ecstasy. High on ice cream and sitting in the living room reading love poetry to each other. And Burt and Carole had sat in the kitchen with candles and hot tea holding hands, smiled and listened to lines familiar and lines obscure, but all making them smile. They even had recited parts to each other that night in the warmth of each other's embrace, under the covers, parts of poems once learned being where Kurt, Blaine and Finn now are, in high school.

Blaine and Kurt had taken two sick days, before returning to Dalton. And it had worked, the shivers and fever died down in less than a day, and after spending another cuddling with Kurt, kissing and falling asleep and waking up on the third day still in Kurt's arms, Blaine has been as fine …has seemed as fine as he had before.

And it is this Friday, before the weekend leading them into the third week starts that has Carole questioning aloud, what to do.

Blaine and Kurt are not yet back from Dalton, and Finn will be here in about an hour from football practice and for Friday night dinner.

"…he clearly has a coping mechanism in place, but we cannot just ignore what happened forever. I know Kurt was right in asking us to give him time to calm down…but…but…."

"But what now?" Burt helps out.

"Yes," Carole sounds exhausted, and Burt pulls her into her arms, holds her close and tight. "The next breakdown is going to happen, if it hasn't yet, and it is not only Blaine's health we are talking about. We can't, just can't leave Kurt alone to deal with something like this."

"Okay. Tell you what, Carole, I have my next routine check-up for my heart next Tuesday. How about we make it a family thing, and use the opportunity to all do a routine health check?"

"You think Blaine won't freak out if we are all included and the focus is not on him alone?"

The left corner of Burt's mouth twitches up a little in a half-smile, "Worth a try?"

"Yes, sure," Carole says, smiling back.

"Okay, so we can ask them about it tonight, at dinner."

"Let's add a movie to it and give the food a little time to settle and then we can ask. I don't want Blaine throwing up again. And the sweetness of the apple pie I made will help with that too, settling stomachs."

Burt's eyes begin to glow, "You made apple pie? How did I not notice?"

"…because Kurt and I have a special place to store these things."

"We have secret room with all my favorite foods hidden somewhere around this house?"

"Daaaad! No, we don't."

Burt turns to see Kurt stand there, smirking, holding hands with Blaine, both still in their Dalton blazers.

"Hey you two," Carole chimes. "Week alright?"

"Mom, we talked yesterday afternoon. We are both fine. Wes is going a little crazy about Warbler practices again, but we are fine," Kurt just keeps talking, not even noticing at first what he just said until Blaine squeezes Kurt's hand and Kurt looks from Blaine, who nods in Carole and Burt's direction, to Carole, then Burt. "What?"

"Mom?" Burt asks, smiling happily.

"Oh," Kurt says, and can feel Blaine chuckle next to him, leaning into Kurt's side. "I guess, apple pie and Friday dinner, and all this, and Dad, you looking so happy, I just, it…," Kurt tries to find an explanation.

Carole cares more about, "Did it feel right? I mean, did it feel right to say that…to me, to call me your mother, because I really, really would love for you to think of me in that way, but I don't want you to push, because you think you have to."

"Not pushing, I promise, I hadn't even noticed, it just, it felt right, yeah," Kurt beams, and Carole is pulling him into a hug a moment later. Blaine lets go of Kurt's hand, after giving it another gentle squeeze then just stands there, smiling at the two people by now holding each other.

Blaine's eyes briefly flicker to Burt, over Kurt's shoulder, and he sees him wearing the same happy smile.

xxxx

By the time Kurt and Blaine have changed out of their uniforms into something more comfortable and much, much less formal, it is almost time for dinner, and sure enough, again standing in the kitchen, chatting to Kurt's parents, they hear the front door open and a moment later...

..."MOOOM! IS DINNER READY?" Finn's voice booms through the ground floor. Finn finds them all standing, laughing, in the kitchen when he comes in. "What's up?"

"Dinner will be ready soon, Sweety, we were just catching up with Blaine and Kurt about their week."

"Okay," Finn says, "If I deck the table, will it go faster?"

"Yes, Finn. Thank you," Carole says as Finn almost storms at the cupboard to get started as soon as he hears the first word.

xxxx

Dinner is comfortably quite, anecdotes of everyone's week here and there adding to the sense of contentment.

"…and then Sue Sylvester threw that protein shake right into Figgin's face, of course claiming she tripped, or something. Brittany says she will write an article about how the pixies living at the school are a real health hazard walking around invisible and all, and said she'll add an appeal to them to make themselves visible to everyone for safety and stuff."

Kurt is laughing so hard by the time Finn is done with his story, leaning into Blaine's side for support he accidentally drops some of the whipped cream and apple pie of his fork onto the sleeve of Blaine's long sleeved red shirt.

"Oh, sorry, Blaine. Let me."

And Blaine is still drunk on laughter himself, and so contended beaming at Kurt's adorably scrunched up face that he forgets to worry. Enjoys the feeling, the gentle touch of Kurt's hand under his shirt sleeve, the back of his hand warm against the skin of his inner forearm. And then it is too late, and Blaine has not even noticed yet, but can see the expression of pure happiness turn into a frown, "Blaine?"

And only now Blaine notices that Kurt, having cleaned the shirt has turned his palm to rest against his wrist and absentmindedly started running his hand in an expression of love up and down his forearm.

And why he has not frozen yet Blaine does not understand himself, except this is Kurt, and the blue meeting his eyes seems to allow for no other feeling than safety. He finds a question in them he has not ever wanted to answer anyone...


	7. That wrench around my heart

**A/N:  
><strong>

Blaine has been feeling so lost for so long, snief...this was hard to write. WARNING: the topic of cutting is discussed in this chapter, and will be explored beyond, if you might get triggered please don't read on. Cutting will not be the main focus of this story though, and nothing is really exactly as it seems to Kurt in the beginning.

* * *

><p><strong>That wrench around my heart<strong>

There is this awful glimpse of a moment that might very well stretch into a seemingly lasting hell, as it has so often before for Blaine when others had discovered what Blaine himself does not know how to name, never has - that moment, when the silence still growing around him and the only answer he has, but has never before dared to voice, is violently hammering against his heart from deep inside with more and more force, threatening to have him collapse.

But there is hold and hope this time.

There is Kurt's hand too, still running gently, palm warm and soft over his forearm.

Spending focus, offering love, the honesty of which even Blaine's fears cannot bring him to doubt – Kurt's loving gaze always there, deep and so warm for such a startling blue.

And Kurt's touch is so different from all the prodding touches and piercing stares he has ever felt from others when it comes to this.

He has given up years ago, long before Dalton to talk to anyone about this, to try to explain. Even the Warblers have no idea. Blaine functions expertly in the group,_ being a functioning member is appreciated. _Opening up has always ment risking a breakdown. The Warblers, even though they don't know him all that well, not as well as some of them at least seem to think they do, they are the closest Blaine has to friends. _I cannot risk being kicked out. _

There are some who have, in the past, stopped and looked at him, questioning, maybe trying to offer something. Not sure...of anything but the fact that opening up had always brought more pain than relief, certainly never a feeling of closeness, alienation instead, Blaine had kept to himself the uncertainties that hold the pain deep within, what feels like miles and miles under his skin.

But now Blaine can feel his thoughts, his mind open to himself in ways he is not sure it ever has before, and it is terrifying, and it is…_hope _he feels with Kurt with him. _Maybe now that I am not…that I don't feel so…alone_, but he can already feel the workings of his mind stutter to a halt again, at the last word, trying to make out its echo inside the places he has spent so much time trying to convince himself are not filled with darkness, but empty. There are corners he does not want to turn, paths he has not taken in forever, it seems to him; maybe most tortured by the question what it will take for him to try.

_Darkness_, and it is like the thought alone drenches his whole mind…taking all light, all hopes sparked, to see.

Kurt can see, can see the moment all traces of happiness disappear from Blaine's features, can feel a shallow shiver, expertly suppressed, raise the hairs on Blaine's skin.

Kurt knows there must be dozens of scars covering Blaine's skin, can feel them under his touch. And it turns his stomach, but he does not allow it to do more. As shaken as he is by discovering this, all he finds himself thinking is, _I wish I had known sooner_. And then he finds himself hoping, since he cannot wish them to never have been at all, that the scars are old, that the boy he loves is not still seeing no other way.

There is no hesitation in Kurt's touch, no shift of his fingertips, no trying to make out shapes where the lines run. He is not trying to make sense of something that is Blaine's to explain, Blaine's story to tell.

There is _No pity_, _No disgust_, in Kurt's eyes, Blaine can hardly believe how lucky that makes him feel. How lucky he is to have Kurt.

Everyone who has ever found out before has tried to read him, like there is a message carved into his skin somewhere, or, behind his eyes.

But Kurt, Kurt is the one opening up to him now, offering a place of comfort, love and hold. Kurt is willing to listen to Blaine trying to spell out, what it is, it is so clear to Kurt …_Blaine is not sure how to say_. Blaine looks maybe even more lost to Kurt for a moment than that night at the side of the road, like…_No one has ever simply waited for Blaine to…given Blaine the opportunity to try and say what it is that is tearing at him, so obviously, _Kurt thinks, _aching to be let out. _And it might be so very ugly, the truth buried, but Kurt does not care, wants a part of the pain more than anything if it means …_If it means Blaine will hurt less. _And Kurt tries to put it into his eyes, to let Blaine feel that…_I am here, I am not going anywhere._

Burt, Carole, and even Finn have noticed that something is happening at the other side of the table, minutes ago, when neither Blaine nor Kurt had responded to Finn's battle cry for a second round of "CAKE!" Blaine never fails to join in to that, and neither does Kurt, not when it comes to Carole's apple pie.

But with the way Blaine and Kurt have been wordlessly looking at each other for almost three minutes now, like there is no one else in the world, even Finn has known to stay quite, that something important is going on those few feet away from him, Burt, and Carole.

Blaine feels Kurt's right hand still on his arm, his left now coming to cup Blaine's right cheek, and suddenly there is this overwhelming warmth, and all the explanations and lack thereof stop to matter, because all Blaine can think with Kurt right there, all he can feel is, "I love you," and they hadn't said that yet.

"I love you too, Blaine."

And maybe this is what Blaine had to say and hear to fully open up, to be able to tell the rest, trust someone with…the fear his own questions bring, and with answers hoped to be untrue and so many drawn from his own darkest nightmares alone, even Blaine does not know if they are part of a reality long ceased to be, that he, even he himself cannot remember, has not dared to _really _try and remember…until now.

His right hand finding Kurt's left on his cheek, intertwining their fingers and moving them to his chest, to rest over his heart, Blaine trusts Kurt with everything, everything he knows for sure.

The first sound is a pleading sob of a name, "Kurt?"

"Yes?" Kurt replies softly.

"Kurt, I need…," another sob takes the last word and all meaning with it.

Beginning to trace along the skin on Blaine's forearm again, Kurt gently reassures Blaine of his presence, before he, losing eye contact with Blaine for a brief moment, leans in and whispers for Blaine alone to hear, "Blaine, I love you."

Moving back again, the boys reconnecting their eyes, it comes, with the first tears, all spilling out of Blaine's darkness, "I need help."

xxxx

There is a moment of heavy silence before Carole dares to try, _What if I scare him? _"Blaine? Burt has a health check next Tuesday."

Blaine looks at her frowning in confusion.

"Would you like to come along and talk to the doctor for a moment? She might be able to help."

"It...it is a woman?" Blaine asks with disturbing hesitation, fear showing he might have misheard.

And Burt hates that it seems to be so important to Blaine, hates his mind already rearing with what it might mean. "Yes, Kid."

Eyes, now fixed firmly on the table Blaine asks biting his lip in a voice just strong enough to still be heard, clearly afraid of the answer, "Can Kurt come?"

"Sweety, of course he can," Carole answers softly.

And Blaine nods, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing hard, "O-h-kay."

xxxx

Burt and Carole have a talk that night, about Blaine's parents, or rather about the fact that they know nothing about them.

"I don't think Kurt does either," Burt adds, worried.

But they decide quickly not to get them involved before they know more about what is torturing Blaine so.

xxxx

Kurt and Blaine find themselves on Kurt's bed not ten minutes after dinner, changed into PJs, Blaine's long sleeved, like, now that Kurt thinks about it, everything Kurt has ever seen him wear has been.

Sitting, Blaine in Kurt's lap, wrapped deep inside Kurt's embrace, Kurt's hand is again running up and down Blaine's left forearm. A touch Kurt knows to be, but yet does not understand why it is, comforting to Blaine. To Blaine it is a promise gently soothed into his long broken skin, that they will go looking for answers and questions together.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, Love."

And then Blaine is getting up and walking over to get something out of the pockets of the trousers he had been wearing all through dinner. A moment later he is back in Kurt's arms and holding out his hand between them, opening his palm slowly to reveal his marble puzzle piece infused with blue and green swirls, just like Kurt's.

With a smile and a kiss to Blaine's forehead Kurt reaches over to his nightstand, where he had earlier placed his, and now gently places his piece where it will always belong, with Blaine's, then covers Blaine's hand with his own palm, leans their foreheads together, fingertips coming to rest againast each other's wrists.

Eyes drifting shut, they stay like this for minutes.

At first Kurt does not know what he is feeling. He swallows all questions and stops himself from deliberately searching the skin with his fingertips or eyes for what he fears more than anything to be right to be the beginning of a scar situated so close to Blaine's palm Kurt's mind is screaming at him it can only mean one thing, then _We have held hands so often, how have I never noticed before? _But it has been winter and cold, and the clothes have been thick and long, and gloves have been worn so much of the time, and it is not like they have done more than hold each other, fully clothed, and kissed.

And Kurt is scared.

Then there is another shiver shaking Blaine, and Kurt is reminded that Blaine is scared too.

They climb under the covers together. Blaine comforted by Kurt's warmth reaching deeper than his skin, allowing for calm to settle with both of them between the sheets.

"I love you."

"I love you."

This night no one goes missing.

This night Blaine feels a little less lost in his own skin.


	8. A Mind Shaken

**A/N: **Well, Kurt needs comfort too.

* * *

><p><strong>A Mind Shaken<strong>

Kurt wakes early the next morning, and Blaine is still fast asleep when Kurt slips on a too big and very comfy jumper before making sure Blaine is still tugged in warmth and then heading downstairs.

As soon as he enters the kitchen he is greeted with a warm, "Hey," from his dad sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in one, the paper in the other hand.

"Hey," Kurt replies, aiming for a smile but somehow missing, and Burt does not have to be told to notice.

So as soon as Kurt, his own cup of coffee in hand, sits down next to him, he places the paper on the table and takes Kurt's left hand, gently in his own right.

Kurt closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. He cannot help the shaking that starts in both his hands, and while Burt, in an attempt to comfort tightens his hold on Kurt's left hand, Kurt loses hold on his coffee mug, and it comes crashing down on the table, Kurt shrieking back as coffee spills everywhere and almost falling out of his chair, but caught in Burt's embrace, before it comes to that.

As soon as Burt's arms close around him, both of them standing between chairs now, Kurt loses it completely, his sobs only broken by torn whispers, "It isn't…fair," "What…what did they do…do…to…to him?...Dad?" "I…I woke…woke up to him crying in his sleep…tonight,…three times,…all…all I…I could do…was hold…hold him closer and…hope."

"Son, I…," Burt searches his mind rapidly for the right words to say this, "You are doing everything you can. I think you are the reason he is now looking for help. With you, he does not want to pretend, so, he cannot just pretend to be strong anymore either. You are the reason he is trying to heal. That is a good thing. But it does not mean you have to do this alone."

Kurt grows finally quiet in Burt's arms, and Burt knows that the protest is going to come next, so he continues before Kurt can cut in, "I know you want to be there for him every step of the way. And we will make that possible, as best we can, I promise you that, but neither of you is alone in this, I will be there with you, both of you. And I know Carole will do all she can to make sure you will both be okay."

Kurt, lifting his head from Burt's chest, where it has been buried all this time searches the room to make sure Blaine is really not there, before he looks up at his dad, whispering, "There are all these scars on his forearm."

Burt's eyes widen in horror, he had seen something going on at the dinner table last night, but this, this is, is not what he expected. Neat, caring, nothing but lovely and loving with his son Blaine, "He cuts?"

Kurt shakes his head, "I don't know," Kurt almost chokes when he tries to swallow, still holding his father's gaze for support.

It breaks Burt's heart to see the tears flowing so thick from Kurt's eyes as he says, "Dad, I am so scared. I think he…There is this cut, this scar, beginning at his wrist,…I think he…I mean he must have…why else would it be there…who cuts there if not to…he must have tried…," and Kurt cannot say it out loud, and he closes his eyes on the world but the thought won't leave, _He must have tried to kill himself._

Kurt feels his father's arms tighten around him once again, and then, without having to look at Burt again Kurt knows Burt has understood what Kurt could not say out loud.

His father's voice is soothing and deep when he hears it next, almost humming, "He, Blaine loves you, very, very much, Son."

And Kurt too knows what Burt is trying to say.

"Loving someone and being loved by someone changes you, Son. He wants, more than anything, to be with you. I heard you on Valentine's Day, sitting in there, on our couch, _'the marks reach deep, but deeper runs love,'_ he read that to you, right?"

Kurt nods, shakily - croaks out a "Yes."

"I think he was trying to tell you things then already, things back then you could not yet understand. Blaine wants to be everything for you, and he knows he has to heal to truly be able to be that. We will help him do that. You, I, Carole, heck, even Finn."

And then Kurt is letting out a wet, chocked laugh, but a laugh still.

"Okay, Kiddo?"

"Yeah," and now it is Kurt hugging Burt tight, "Thank you, Dad."

Placing a kiss into Kurt's hair, Burt says softly, "I love you, Kurt."

"I love you too, Dad."

And in the quiet that follows, both standing with their eyes closed and wrapped deep in each other's arms, Burt is the first to register the sound of coffee, now cold, still dripping from the table onto the kitchen floor.


	9. Tell me the place

A/N: I guess in terms of feeling…can it get much darker than this?

* * *

><p><strong>Tell me the place I can come to for you<strong>

Carole, Burt and Kurt are in the kitchen when they hear the front door open…and close.

Finn most Saturdays goes for a run, around 11am, before having a late, very late breakfast, usually topped directly with lunch, and _I will never understand how anyone can stomach this_, Kurt thinks, shaking his head and smiling, seeing Carole out of the corner of his eye smiling, too, knowingly.

It takes a loud swearing sound coming from upstairs two minutes later and a moment of holding his breath to try and listen for Kurt to realize that there is also the unmistakable sound of videogames playing to be heard.

_NO!_

He does not react to Burt's and Carole's shouts of, "Kurt?" and "What is it, Son?" as he runs up the stairs and throws open his bedroom door, "Blaine, no!" then runs back down the stairs and out the front door in his socks and his PJs, still smelling of "Blaine," he had not been able to bring himself to take them off after getting up, thinking then, _Not until I have Blaine in my arms again, awake and safe and maybe even smiling. _

The ground is wet and cold, and Kurt does not care.

Looking up and down the street, hoping to spot…"Something, Please, Anything."

Kurt's hands are still buried deep in his hair, Kurt looking for hold in his own skin, and his eyes, searching, wide and frantic, a whisper escaping his mouth, "Blaine," when Burt reaches him.

Burt's arms close around Kurt, as he lets out all his fear in never ending monotone whispers of "nonononononononono."

Holding Kurt close, Burt himself looks around, searching for the boy that seems to need to get away, get lost to the world to feel less that way himself.

"Shh, Shhhhh, Kurt. Think. Where could he be? He just left, he can't have gone far. You have talked right? You have been for walks around here the last weeks, right? Think. Where could he be?"

And Kurt, eyes pressed shut, is searching his insides for answers.

"Where have you been walking, Kid? I know you have been on walks together."

"We…that small strip of woods…?"

Burt frowns for a moment, searching his own mind, "With the run down cabin by that stream about a mile from here? What where you doing there?"

"We…Mom used to take me there to show me how the seasons change, the flowers and the water and trees, and I wanted Blaine to know, and…," Kurt stops, swallowing hard, "…he might be there, although I don't know why he would be. We just went there twice."

"Okay, let's get into the car and go there first. Okay?"

Kurt nods.

xxxx

"Burt, you heard Blaine yesterday. Let _me_ go. I don't…I am not sure he would come back with _you_…if you found him. Let _me_ go with Kurt. Okay?"

And so Carole and Kurt get to the Cabin, run down, roof crooked and holey in several spots, less than ten minutes later.

They look around for several minutes, all around the patch of woods, but they find nothing, no one, except for a stray dog, chasing something in the undergrowth.

Carole turning back from the car sees Kurt walking towards the cabin. "Kurt? What are you doing? It might be dangerous in there, loose floorboards and who knows what," thinking all the while..._Blaine won't be in there, not with his fear of confined spaces. _But then again, Carole does not know everything, and that is something she knows, and finds herself already following Kurt in his path.

Carole sees Kurt freeze a moment later as he stands staring into the dark of the cabin through the entrance missing its door altogether. "Kurt? What is it?"

But Kurt has disappeared in the cabin before Carole can reach him.

And only a moment later Carole stands where Kurt just stood peering into the dark, unsure what she is seeing, except for the white of Kurt's pajama pants folding as Kurt kneels down next to another figure, cowering on the floor, body collapsed in on itself and only the neck, twisted in a grotesque way pointing upwards, where Blaine, eyes turned up, seems to be staring at …_the ceiling?_ Carole wonders.

She hears a faint whisper, "Blaine, Love? What are you doing here?"

The voice answering in a hum alone is soft and sounding young, but sure, "Mmhhm."

And as Carole takes two steps closer, herself now swallowed by the shadows cast by the old run down building, abandoned for who knows how long, she sees Kurt leaning closer, sees his right hand twisting into the fabric of his own pants, and she knows he is aching to reach out and wipe the tears, she can see now too, running silent and thick down Blaine's cheeks, away.

"Blaine?" Kurt tries again.

"I'm waiting for the stars to come out," Blaine replies, voice even and in that quiet sounding empty in too many ways for Kurt to take.

Carole swallows hard as she sees Kurt begin to shake with the weight of utter helplessness pushed onto him by the unknown which Blaine is to him right now.

Her own fingernails digging into her left palm as her hand twists in response to her minds rearing with fears dark and overbearing, she closes her eyes, and shakes her hand out while taking a deep breath, _Keep it together, Carole, they need you, you can cry later about how fucking unjust life is._

Opening her eyes again and taking another deep breath she walks in, and crouches down herself, wrapping her arms around Kurt, from where she is now sitting behind him.

Slowly taking Kurt's free left hand into her own Carole tries to offer hold.

Kurt's right, while Carole sat down, has moved to rest on the foot of floorboard left between him and Blaine, reaching - reaching for the boy he loves, waiting for him, fingers stretched, waiting for Blaine.

It makes her proud and it breaks Carole's heart to hear Kurt try, "I love you, Blaine. I am here." She can also hear the pleading, the fear, and the silent screams of _WHY! _building in Kurt's throat as he manages to swallow everything but a broken whimper and the whisper of "With you I am happy for the first time. Please come back to me."

Kurt's fingertips centimeters away from the dark blue of the fabric of his boyfriend's PJs, falling around him, Kurt waits...for Blaine to reach out.


	10. Someone there to return to

**A/N: **I finally found a way to go forward in this story. I actually cried writing the end to this chapter. Then again, I have always been emotional.

* * *

><p><strong>Someone there to return to<strong>

Kurt can feel the darkness beginning to claw at his eyes still opened wide and focused on Blaine, Kurt blinking only whenever he feels his focus begin to drift with the surges of pain returning again and again in a matter of minutes.

The cold, emitted by the walls and floor, and gradually seeping into his body has Kurt only trying harder to keep penetrating the dark with his gaze and keep that line open and ready - there for Blaine to reach out and grab on to, as soon as he is ready, _…and he will be._

_He will_, Kurt holds on to that single thought, his own lifeline, Carole's embrace surrounding him no longer really registering to Kurt, reaching still with all he has for Blaine, wishing he could find it in himself to touch him, but too afraid what it might do to Blaine if he actually tried.

It is the hardest thing Kurt can remember ever having done, offering all he has to give and having to wait and hope that there is something Blaine needs and is willing and ready to take. _Please, Blaine. Please. _

Looks and gentle touches have always been their thing, so Kurt is somewhat unprepared, somewhat stunned, when Blaine chooses a different channel to reach himself for the person that wants nothing else, nothing more, than be there for Blaine to return to...when he is ready. Blaine, ready, somehow, takes words and forms them into something akin to a wish, drifting in his voice over to Kurt. And Kurt has loved Blaine's voice from the moment they met, deep and soft, but...Kurt has maybe never before loved hearing it as much as he does right here and now, in a cold and dark that Blaine somehow instantly manages to shift, to transform, into a thing much less scary.

"Kurt? Can we go home?"

"Blaine?" the name is, after a moment of shock, spoken in no more than a whisper.

"Yes?" Blaine replies, eyes wide as he turns his head and finds Kurt's orbs of blue.

And then Kurt falls forward and wraps Blaine in his arms, and all the fear comes bursting out in tears hot. "Blaine. Blaine."

Carole stays back - holds back all movement, all tears, and questions of her own. Waits and watches, still kneeling herself, as Blaine gently coaxes a shaking Kurt, now wrapped in Blaine's embrace, to his feet with him.

She sees Blaine's legs shake too as he guides Kurt back out of the cabin, both briefly pausing at the three steps leading back down onto the forest ground, covered in twigs and leaves brown,orange and yellow, all torn and whithered by the almost constant cold of the first weeks of the new year, as the boys' eyes adjust to the brightness of daylight.

Carole, seeing the slight limp in Blaine's step die away with the first steps he takes outside, fully understands as she gets up of the old, cold wooden floor, partially covered in moss, herself, and feels the sudden surge of pain stiffening her every muscle with a dull ache.

A deep breath and a brief moment of shaking out her limbs, and she is following Kurt and Blaine back into the open.

She finds them standing, holding each other, only a couple of feet away from the cabin.

Kurt is still shaking in Blaine's arms, face buried in Blaine's left shoulder, and Blaine, holding him close, left hand on the back of Kurt's head, right arm securely around his boyfriend's waist, looks like he is the only thing that is holding Kurt upright anymore now.

When Carole steps closer and her own eyes slowly completely readjust to the natural light, she sees Blaine's eyes, staring unfocused and full off…she cannot even pretend to know what, into the air surrounding them, smelling of earth and pine needles.

Carole watches as after a moment, Blaine closes his eyes and gently traces his right cheek along Kurt's until his lips are right next to Kurt's ear.

Carole cannot make out the whisper, but the effect it has on Kurt could not be more obvious, the shaking ceasing so quickly it is clear it had never anything to do with feeling cold to begin with.

After a moment more Kurt lifts his head and Carole watches as the boys' gazes meet.

True calm seems to flood both of them as hands meet between each other and are brought up to rest intertwined between their chests as they remain standing close, gazing at each other for minutes more, softness now gradually taking the place of the sadness that had hardened both their features with doubt, and fear, and grief before.

Eyes drifting shut for a brief moment, Carole, winds her own right hand around the elbow of her outstretched left arm in an attempt to hold herself together, ..._until I have the boys home safely_.

Wishing it was Burt's embrace, missing his warmth terribly right now, Carole turns and starts walking back to the car, gives Kurt and Blaine a moment to themselves.

As she climbs into the car and closes the door behind herself she allows the sob, broken in her throat before it gets the chance to leave it whole, to escape into the closed off space, knowing it will prevent the sound of the feeling of pure fear and helplessness to reach the boys' ears. _We will be okay. Together we will be okay. All of us._

And the smile she tries to offer the boys is watery, tears fought back once again, as she looks back out of the car window to see Blaine and Kurt, still holding hands, walking towards the vehicle.

The drive back to the house is filled with silence.

Silence so heavy, it has Carole swallow hard as she pulls into their driveway.

Tears are streaming thick down her face, as she gets out of the car and heavier still as she walks through the front door of their home, practically throwing herself into Burt's arms, who had been pacing in the hallway as Carole had walked in, feeling some of the darkness they had sat in still clinging to her skin.

"Carole. Sweetheart, oh my god. I was so worried, you were gone for almost two hours," Burt gently hums into the embrace. "You found him, right?"

"Yes," it is a sound chocked and chopped, Burt really more assured by feeling Carole nodding into his chest.

Real explanations drowned in tears, Carole finally allowing herself to let her own fear show, Burt is left to hold her close, humming, "You found him and got him home safe, that is all that matters right now."

"I know."


	11. Can't let go

**A/N:  
><strong>One of my favorite songs of all time used in here, which clearly I have no rights to what so ever.

**Can't let go**

It takes them almost twenty minutes to make their way out of the car's backseat, Kurt beginning to shake violently again every time Blaine tries to ease Kurt's hold on him.

Inside Burt is pacing again, waiting anxiously, Carole having asked him to give Kurt and Blaine some time.

xxxx

"Please, Blaine, don't leave me." It has all been too much for Kurt.

Burt might have reached Kurt this morning but…, this happening again has shattered something in Kurt, and woken memories of the day Burt had had to tear a screaming, crying Kurt away from his dead mother's bedside.

"_She needs me, she needs me to keep her warm. NO! Let go of me. DAD! She needs me."_

And now it is all Kurt can think about...and Blaine has no idea, Kurt drowning in his own tears no means to tell him.

xxxx

Kurt, sitting at the edge of the car's backseat, clinging to Blaine still, with all the strength he can summon in his shaking arms, door open and Blaine standing between Kurt's legs, cannot bring himself to let go of Blaine, cannot even bring himself to try such a thing.

So Blaine, calm, as he so often finds himself after one of his episodes - in an almost eerily disturbing way, has ever since he can remember - wraps his arms tighter around the boy he loves and leans in like he had before in the woods, lips almost brushing Kurt's ear with the words he speaks, once again cheek resting against cheek, "You just hold on. I'm not going anywhere without you. I'm not going to leave you. You just hold on."

And so Kurt does tighten his grip on Blaine with his legs winding around Blaine's waist as Blaine takes a step away from the car, lifting Kurt out of the seat. Taking another two steps, and having closed the car door, Blaine's arms wind securely around Kurt, hold him as close as Blaine can.

xxxx

Burt's eyes widen in shock and disbelief when he sees Blaine almost trip over the doorstep under the weight of Kurt in his arms. A weight he is clearly physically nowhere near strong enough to support in his own still fragile state.

Hurrying over towards the two boys Burt reaches out for Kurt.

Kurt begins to scream in agony when he feels Burt trying to take him out of Blaine's arms, "Nooooo! Don't! Please don't."

This is the exact moment Burt remembers too, "Oh my god. Kurt. No, I wasn't...I wouldn't..."

Wrapping both boys in his arms in the next second, offering hold to Blaine as well, who Kurt is still holding on to so tightly, Burt says, "Kurt, Son, I'm not going to make you leave Blaine."

And Blaine does not understand any of this, and all he can feel is Kurt shaking so violently now, it brings tears to his eyes. "Kurt, please, I am here."

The words have Kurt only crying harder, and then Blaine's legs are giving way and Burt feeling Blaine slump in his arms is the one to tighten his hold and guide the boys to the floor.

Running a hand through Kurt's hair as he sits down with them Burt tries so hard to sound reassuring, "Kurt, please calm down, please. We'll get help. We are going to be okay. Neither of us is going anywhere. I am right here, Blaine is right here."

And Kurt wants to be able to believe his father's words, but there is a pain blinding him, making it impossible for him to see past the darkness he feels himself drowning in with every breath he takes.

_"Smile, though your heart is aching_

_Smile, even though it's breaking"_

Blaine's voice is soft and warm, and Kurt calms instantly, the lullaby so familiar. And Kurt had forgotten he had told Blaine about his mother singing this to him as a child, until now.

Burt moves away, feeling like he is intruding on something, stands up and walks over to Carole, who has been standing crying in the doorway to the kitchen, watching horrified Kurt's falling apart.

_"When there are clouds in the sky_

_you'll get by_

_If you smile through your fear and sorrow_

_Smile and maybe tomorrow"_

And Kurt lets out a sob, does not want to think of tomorrow and what new horrors it might hold.

_"You'll see the sun come shining through_

_for you"_

"Blaine," it is a broken, pleading sound.

"Shhhh, Baby, I'm not going anywhere. And if I ever do, I will always come back to you. I did last time didn't I?" Blaine feels Kurt, now curled up in his lap, face buried in Blaine's chest, nod into it. "I will always come back to you, Kurt."

_"Light up your face with gladness_

_Hide every trace of sadness Although a tear may be ever so near_

_That's the time you must keep on trying_

_Smile what's the use of crying_

_You'll find that life is still worthwhile_

_If you'll just_

_Smile"_

"I will always come back to you, Kurt. Always," Blaine whispers again and again, as he keeps holding Kurt wrapped in his arms until the other boy sinks into sleep in his arms.

xxxx

Burt walks back over to them, offering Blaine to help him carry a sleeping Kurt into the living room.

Blaine just shakes his head, "He'll know it isn't me. I don't know how, but he always knows."

And so Blaine fights past the ache in his muscles and carries Kurt into the living room, and curls up with him on the couch, Burt walking with him, not wanting to risk either boy being hurt in a fall.

Carole is with them a moment later, draping a warm blanket over the boys, then sitting down on the floor next to the couch, Burt sitting in one of the chairs opposite them.

Running a hand soothingly through Blaine's hair, and seeing his eyes drift shut, Carole asks softly, "Blaine, Sweety, how long have you been suffering from these episodes?"

It is a choked whisper, and tears are running down Blaine's face in the next moment, "As long as I can remember."


	12. All I know

**All I know**

What Blaine at first does not say is, that this need to get out, get away, is all he really can remember, _Nightmares don't count as memories_. He has spent too long trying to convince himself of this to now just admit it might not be the exact truth.

"I don't know what is happening to me," Blaine half-sobs, eyes still closed, tears still coming, ten minutes later.

"Shh, Blaine," it is Carole, too, still running her hand through his curls, "You don't have to tell us anything."

"I think I need to try. I think I want to, for me and for Kurt. I never meant to upset him like this. No one has ever cared before, no one had ever noticed I even went anywhere before that night, with you."

Burt takes a deep breath then, "Kid, you did nothing wrong. It was me and a bad memory that had him freak out like this."

Blaine opens his eyes and looks through the tears questioningly at Burt, "I don't understand."

"I…I had to…she had been dead for hours. She had …his mother had died holding him, and I could not get him to let go off her, but I had to….And…when I tried to have him let go off you he must have remembered how I had to drag him away, and he never saw her again, and…," Burt knows it is pointless, but that does not stop him from feeling that guilt, again.

"No. Kurt," Blaine whispers through his tears, coming stronger again, placing kiss after kiss into Kurt's hair, trying to calm himself down, holding on tighter to the sleeping boy in his arms.

xxxx

Finn keeps awkwardly hovering between the kitchen and his room for the rest of the day.

Carole once, after about an hour of them just sitting together, disappears for a short while, to try and talk to Finn about what is going on, Blaine assumes.

And the next time Finn passes the living room Finn attempts a small smile and wave as his eyes meet Blaine's.

When Carole has settled back down with Blaine and Kurt, one hand softly resting on Blaine's curls now, they are all startled when Kurt asks, "Blaine, why did you run?", no one having noticed him waking up, and Kurt staying still and quiet until he had been able to make out this one thought, this one question he needs answered in a mind feeling fuzzy with he is not sure what.

"I…I," Blaine swallows, squeezing Kurt tight before he says, "I had another nightmare and waking up alone I just couldn't…I couldn't breathe, and I just wanted to go find you, but then, walking down the stairs I just got so dizzy, and there was no air, no air at all and…," a sob breaks off Blaine's words, and then Kurt turns in his arms, places a hand to Blaine's cheek and waits for him to open his eyes again.

"I wish I had been there, Blaine."

"You…you were there all night," Blaine whispers. "I don't want to be the one to hurt you. I never want to hurt you again."

"I don't want you to pretend to be strong for me. It's okay."

"But…but when we met you needed me to be strong for you, to make Karofsky, to try and make Karofsky leave you alone."

"No, no Blaine. It wasn't that I thought you could solve all my problems for me, Blaine. Do you know why I fell in love with you?"

Blaine shakes his head, looking a little afraid of the answer to a question he has asked himself many times already in the short while they have been together.

"You helped me find out how strong I really can be, that is when I knew I was in love with you. That you can sing and are adorable is a definite bonus though," and Kurt cannot think, cannot say this without a smile making its way onto his lips.

And then Blaine finds himself laughing, happy, _In all of this, how is that possible?_

And with Kurt's next words Blaine knows the answer is right in front of him, of course, _Kurt._

"Can I, I want to be here for you. Please, can I?"

Blaine nods, as he buries his tearstained face in the crook of Kurt's neck. "I really want to be better."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **They are so in love. It is all I can think having written this. Is that weird?


	13. We cannot always be prepared

**A/N: **Well, yes, another chapter today. I cannot have you waiting for answers forever. I just don't have it in me to be that cruel.

* * *

><p><strong>We cannot always be prepared…but we can try<strong>

It is a torturous wait till Tuesday afternoon and the doctor's appointment - school at Dalton on Monday and Tuesday morning for both boys nothing more than going through the motions.

Carole and Burt sit down together on Monday evening and try to piece together what they know.

"Blaine might get too scared to say anything tomorrow," Carole says with a sigh, curled up on their bed with Burt. "It is best we go in with some idea of what to say to the doctor, why we brought him in, if that should happen."

"He let me hug him Saturday. Well, stop him from falling over with exhaustion," it is the first thing that rushes through Burt's mind.

Intertwining her left hand more thoroughly with Burt's right, Carole replies softly, "I think it might have been that he was too exhausted to work himself up again. But I noticed it too, how calm he was this time after we came back. He was too, last time, that morning. Wasn't he? I mean until we mentioned a doctor."

"Yes," Burt places a kiss to Carole's forehead, "I think he was calm…too calm maybe."

"Yes," Carole replies nodding.

"You said it was like he was there, but wasn't really, when you found him on Saturday?"

"He…yes. He knew we were there with him, but it was like he could not focus on us. Like there was something holding his mind, allowing nothing to really get in."

"His nightmares?"

"Gosh, Burt, I wish I knew what they are about. I can tell he is scared to even try to talk about them, like he is unsure what they are himself. He had that _look _in his eyes, in the forest, when he held Kurt outside the cabin. Like he was trying to get hold off a thought…so he could...could tell us what is wrong. I hope Kurt being there will help him relax enough to say what he needs to. So he can start healing. I want to help him make a beginning for himself. I want us to be his safe place to explore from, to return to whenever he feels lost."

Holding her close, Saturday night, Burt had told Carole about the scars Kurt had discovered on Blaine's left forearm, and she had cried for almost an hour in his arms, not saying a word, and Burt is scared to bring it up again. "Carole?"

"Yes."

"The scars."

"I know, Hon."

"Carole, do you think he really tried to kill himself?"

Carole swallows hard and stays quiet, grip tightening on Burt's hand in hers. Minutes pass before she whispers back, "I don't know, but…I hope he never really meant to."

And then there are heavy tears again, and Burt holding Carole, burying her face in his chest, close.

xxxx

Carole had expected Blaine to be fidgety, for his nerves to show...somehow.

But he is quiet and composed, _too composed, too quiet, _Carole cannot help but think, as the five of them sit in the waiting room the next day.

Burt goes in first for his check-up, and when he gets an all clear, Finn and then Carole are the next to get looked over.

Carole uses the opportunity to ask the doctor if it is okay for Kurt and Blaine to get checked together, tries to explain how Blaine might get scared all alone with her.

"Of course we can do that. It is the exact same check-up for them either way, seeing as they are about the same age."

When Carole steps back out and Kurt and Blaine get up to go in to see the doctor Blaine suddenly stops, "Carole?"

"Yes, Sweety?"

Blaine hesitantly holding out a hand to her asks, "Can you be there, too? Please?"

And taking Blaine's hand in hers gently she notices the tremble, barely visible to the eye, but clear once her skin is resting against his.

"If that is what you want. You can send me back out any time, should you change your mind. I won't take it personal."

Blaine swallows and nods.

She can feel the tremble increase with every step they take closer to the door.


	14. But can you see the bruise left on

**A/N: **The answers to all this are so complicated…and still I hope what you learn in this chapter does not only feel like it is creating more questions, although, in so many ways I am sure it does.

I hope you will want to stay with me to get to them, because I can promise you I have carried them around with me from the get go…and it is so hard not to be able to give them to you right here and now, not to share.

There are things to learn about them we will have to go on a journey together with Blaine.

Because a lot of pain comes from not knowing where what we feel and fear comes from, I think. I guess that's what this story is about in a big part.

* * *

><p><strong>But can you see the bruise left on my mind? <strong>

"Hi, I am Dr. Morris."

"Hi," both boys reply, and Carole offers the other woman a smile, as she settles herself on a chair in one corner, letting out a slow breath, trying to calm her own nerves.

"Just sit down for me, Kurt, Blaine, and we can get started," the doctor says looking between Blaine and Kurt.

Blaine swallows hard and Kurt can feel Blaine's grip tighten again on his hand as soon as they are settled.

Squeezing back gently, Kurt turns to the doctor, "Um, Dr. Morris."

"Yes," the doctor asks offering a warm smile, clearly meant to reassure.

"Would you…could you start with me every time and let Blaine see what you are about to do?"

Turning her gaze on Blaine she asks, "Would that make you more comfortable, Blaine?"

Blaine bits his lower lip, and ducks his head, then after a moment nods whispering, "Yes."

"Okay, then that's what we'll do. Don't worry, we are not going to do anything out of the ordinary. It will be over before you know it."

Turning to Kurt with a small flashlight in her hands she adds, "And if either of you needs me to stop, just let me know." Looking intently between both, expression full of earnestness now, "I'm here to help…not hurt you."

Blaine's nods are still shaky, but he seems to have calmed a little.

And the first tests all go fine. Eyes, ears, noses, throats and reflexes on knees. Ordinary.

Then Kurt is asked to remove his jumper, so that the doctor can listen to his heartbeat and take his blood pressure. And when Kurt, momentarily having to let go of Blaine's hand, to dress down to his short-sleeved T-shirt, finds it again, it just lies there, stiff and motionless, skin cold.

Kurt's eyes wander from the hand up in the hope to find Blaine's eyes, but all he finds is Blaine's head hanging, and in the next moment there are dark marks left on the material of Blaine's dark blue cardigan. _Tears_, no one has to tell Kurt for him to know.

"Blaine?" Kurt tries softly.

The doctor a moment ago still busying herself with noting down Kurt's blood pressure turns and takes in Blaine's state.

So she pulls up a chair and sits down a few feet away in front of Blaine.

"Blaine, we can stop if something is making you uncomfortable."

"No. I…," and then there are more tears hitting the fabric, and Blaine still cannot find it in himself to look up.

Kurt carefully lifts Blaine's left hand and gently places a warm open-mouthed kiss into his palm.

"…I want to be better," Blaine sobs out, lifting his head, eyes full of tears finally searching out Kurt's to his left.

The doctor, voice steady and caring says softly, "We are here for you so you don't have to take the first step alone."

"Blaine," Kurt hums gently, free hand tracing through Blaine's curls, free today, "I'm here, if you fall I will catch you. I love you."

For a moment they are just sitting there, holding hands.

Blaine's fingers are trembling hard as he pulls his hands out of Kurt's, tries to reach for the buttons on his cardigan.

"Let me, Love," Kurt says, as he gently takes Blaine's hands and guides them into his lap, folded into each other.

Kurt does not push the fabric of Blaine's shoulders when he is done with all of the buttons but pulls back, placing both his hands reassuringly on Blaine's upper left thigh, most of all to let him know he is not planning on going anywhere, then waits.

"Kurt?" it comes out in another sob, as Blaine slowly begins to allow the fabric to slide down his shoulders and then down his arms, stopping half way down his arms, searching out Kurt's eyes again, finding them glistening with unshed tears too.

And Kurt finds the fear of being judged and hated in Blaine's eyes. So resting his forehead against Blaine's Kurt says loud and clear, "I only have love for you. I love you, so much."

Nodding shakily once more, Blaine, letting out a deep sigh, pulls back from Kurt and simultaneously his arms free of the cardigan, himself left in a T-shirt now, all the while holding Kurt's gaze, pleading with him to keep looking right at him.

"If you don't want me to look, Blaine, I won't," Kurt says, eyes still holding Blaine's gaze steady.

Tears slipping down Blaine's face and Kurt bringing up both his hands to gently thumb them away, before they reach so much as Blaine's cheekbones, Blaine whispers, "No, it is okay, you…you can look."

So Kurt's eyes slowly wander down, meeting the doctor's for a moment as she scoots closer asking, "Blaine, is it okay if I touch your arms?"

Blaine nods but still shrieks back at first touch, "Sssorry."

"Blaine, it is fine, you are doing great. My hands might be a little cold," she says as she gently takes Blaine's now outstretched forearms one after another in her hands and inspects them from different angles, expression open and caring.

Kurt pressing a quick kiss to Blaine's forehead, gently takes Blaine's left hand back into both of his as soon as the doctor is done with that arm, for now.

Kurt had no idea, the night he first felt them, the marks are _So many_, covering all of the insides of both of Blaine's forearms, only stopping at the crooks of his arms. Almost all of them pale in a way Kurt had not expected, _Faded_, Kurt thinks - only one or two looking new, jumping out at him from the skin in an angry red.

There are fresh tears on both boys' faces as the doctor looks up from his arms to find Blaine's eyes, "Okay, Blaine. I would prescribe you something to help the most recent wounds to heal, but…there are no really recent ones."

Blaine nods.

"When did you last cut, Blaine? Can you remember?"

"Cchristmmas break."

And Kurt is too late in choking back the sob, Blaine's sad big eyes instantly back on him.

"I saw how sad you were right before Christmas, I should have said something."

And then Blaine is smiling, and Kurt can just stare in bewilderment.

"You did. The day after we sang together you told me you would always be there for me. I could not keep it up after that. I had another bad night, and then, knowing you said that to me, and meant it, I just could not do this anymore," Blaine says, nodding down towards his arms.

"Okay, Blaine," the doctor interjects, "I will prescribe you a cream to apply to your skin every morning and every evening for the next two weeks, and after every shower. Then I want you to come back and we will have another look, to try and figure out what will be the best thing to do to maybe prompt some more healing for the skin on your arms over all. That the scars are here to stay does not mean we cannot try and make you feel better about your skin. Sound okay?"

Blaine nods, eyes briefly flickering to the woman's eyes, "Can I get dressed again?"

"Of course," she says getting up and putting the chair back into the corner she pulled it from.

"Mrs. Hummel, would you come with me, so you I can hand you the prescription right away?"

"Yes, of course," Carole gets up from where she has been sitting watching wordlessly all the goings-on.

When they close the door behind them, Carole catches another glimpse off the boys; off Kurt helping Blaine, clearly still shaken, back into the dark blue fabric, promising safety, warmth.

"Mrs. Hummel," the doctor starts then breaks off as Burt appears by their side.

After ushering both of them into another, empty, examination room, she starts over, "Mrs. Hummel, Mr. Hummel, I'm no expert, but something does not add up here."

"What do you mean?" Burt asks, confused.

"You both know about the boy's, Blaine's arms being covered in scars?"

"Yes," Carole replies and Burt nods.

"His record says he is fifteen."

"He is, yes," Carole confirms, "Kurt and Blaine go to school together."

"See, as I said, I'm not an expert, but the scarring on his arms clearly shows layers. Some scars are at the completely wrong angle, meaning it is not physically possible for Blaine to have self-inflicted them, not with such force that they could leave this kind of scarring."

"You mean someone did this to him?" Carole asks, tears immediately shooting up behind her eyes, pushing angrily for release.

"Yes, or with him. People don't usually self-harm in groups, though. It hardly ever happens."

And Burt remembers then why he likes Dr. Morris so much, she has always been straight forward with him. No sugarcoating.

"Also…," Dr. Morris starts again.

"There is more?" Burt asks, looking horrified.

"I'm afraid so. I asked about his age because, by the looks of them, some of these scars are at least about a decade old, maybe more."

"You mean he did this to himself when he was, or someone did this to him when he was just a…," Carole breaks off, tears welling over now.

"Precisely my point, I don't think a child that young would do, start that by itself. Also, and you will really have to take him to an expert to get definite answers, but from what I saw there are mainly two distinct layers of scarring, that old one, faded considerably more into his skin, and a newer one, maybe starting about two, three years back."

Burt and Carole stand speechless.

"I'll get you that prescription now, and I'd recommend to you to take him to see a specialist to help him try to understand the physical side of the scarring and healing of his skin better. The mental side,...we will talk with him about a possible first approach in a moment. I'll be right back."

Burt and Carole stand holding each other, still not fully able to process all they just learned, Carole trying to stop her tears from coming, _No one needs me freaking out today_.

The doctor comes back with the prescription a moment later and some other papers in her hand as well, "Let's go back in. Mr. Hummel you can come along if you'd like."

"I…, I think it might be better..., we don't want to overrun them. I'll just wait here, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, your wife and the boys can fill you in later."

Reentering the room, they find, Blaine curled into Kurt's side, Kurt holding him tight.

Carole's reassuring smile seems to help Blaine relax a little more still, and Carole wonders how she just pulled off that switch in her just moments ago utterly devestated expression.

"Blaine, so, I have your prescription right here. Again, it is a cream especially made to help scarred tissue recover. While it will not allow for the scars to completely heal, it will help nurture your skin, and cleanse it, so we'll have it easier to take a closer look at the scars if you will want to next time. Of course you can also choose to go see a specialist. In fact I would advise you to at some point. It does not have to be straight away if you are more comfortable here for now."

Holding up the other two sheets of paper still in her hand the doctor goes on, "I want you to always remember how brave you are for asking for help. And I understand you might not be ready right now to go and talk to a complete stranger about this in depth, but I also know you are looking for help, so what I got here for you is a list of books and online sources. I'd recommend reading them with someone you can trust. So you have someone to talk to about the new things you will learn for and about yourself. Talking about the urges you felt, maybe still feel some days...it can be very helpful, often necessary, in achieving a lasting recovery."

Blaine sits nodding, whispering a "Thank you."

"You are very, very welcome Blaine."

Blaine nods once more at the doctor in thanks as Kurt helps him to his feet.

"Thank you," Kurt says too, then helps Blaine, shaky on his feet, out of the room altogether.

"I see you in two weeks, to check on his arms again," the doctor says turning to Carole once again, then adds, "I wish there were more people who cared enough to try all they can to help, like you do for Blaine."

"Blaine, I haven't known him that long but...I know he is an amazing kid, who deserves so much better than this."

"All kids do," the doctor says. Then, seeing Carole's questioning look adds, "...deserve better than what we adults burden them with."


	15. Sons And Fathers

**A/N: **I surprised myself here. I liked writing Finn, but I guess this (Season 2) was a point in Glee where I actually did not dislike him all that much on the show either, so somehow it does make sense I guess. Hope you like my Finn too *smiles softly*

* * *

><p><strong>Sons and Fathers<strong>

It has been over two hours since they have come home from the doctor's appointment.

Finn unsure how to deal with the little he knows had made a direct line to his room, not even on the way stopping for food in the kitchen Burt had noticed with a pang. The kitchen, making and sneaking food unapproved past Kurt and Carole is kind of their thing.

Blaine and Kurt had soon followed upstairs and settled on Kurt's bed, both holding on to each other, and neither willing to let go, searching out comfort, while trying to work through the unpenetrable seeming chaos inside – both of them.

Scared. Confused. Tired.

_So Tired. _

Scarred, both of them, in more than one way.

Kurt has not told him yet, but he too has, well…tried it - tried to forget the pain.

Three shallow cuts, drawn and then redrawn into his skin...two times.

It had been two times trying, wanting, willing anything to be there that could help. It had not, not for Kurt._  
><em>

And Kurt has no idea how to ever tell Blaine...any of it.

Afraid Blaine will think Kurt is trying to compare their heartaches, their pain.

Not knowing how to ever tell, after all, no one has ever known and …_they have all healed up, the cuts…to the eye_.

Kurt can still trace the exact lines on his skin. _It has not been that long. _And Kurt's mind feels more fuzzy and muddled now than it had walking into the doctor's office, hand in hand with Blaine.

The door to Kurt's bedroom is half-open. He had not even thought about closing it; the sounds of life occasionally drifting up from the ground floor, somehow reassuring, he is glad he had not.

xxxx

Burt makes his way upstairs, a while later, to talk to Finn – to try and ease some of the worry that had been clear on his face as soon as Kurt, holding a still shaking Blaine, had stepped back out into the waiting room.

Passing Kurt's room he finds a sight before himself he has come to miss more and more in the last weeks. Kurt and Blaine asleep, on the couch or as today on the covers of Kurt's bed, wound tightly around each other, "Like they have been born that way…to fit together," Burt murmurs to himself as he pauses and just looks on for a moment, thinking…_I want them to have a chance…a real chance to be happy._

Eyes still on Kurt and Blaine, Burt is about to take another step towards Finn's room, two doors down, when…

…"Dad? Are they going to be okay?"

And as Burt turns his gaze away from the sleeping boys, Burt finds Finn, standing right next to him, too gazing at Blaine and Kurt with worry and, Burt only notices as Finn turns to look at him, tears in his eyes.

"Finn," Burt says voice full of unspoken sorrow, he has never seen his step-son cry before, and Finn…_has hardly ever called me…Dad… so far._

Burt, in that moment, has no idea what to do or say next, so he decides to go with his instincts.

Pulling Finn into a warm hug he allows Finn's sobs to be heard and to settle, before he slowly guides him back to his room.

"Sorry," Finn whispers sadly as he uses his shirtsleeves to wipe the tears off his cheeks and out of his eyes.

And Burt has to fight a smile thinking, and then saying, "Kurt would kill you for that." And then Finn is laughing.

"Great to hear you laugh, Kid," Burt adds pulling Finn, both of them now sitting on Finn's bed, into another hug.

It only hits Burt now how hard it must be for Finn to show himself to Burt in such a vulnerable state. For all Burt knows Finn's ideal of a male has been for years now… _Puck_. And the guy with the self-proclaimed bad boy image certainly does not strike Burt as someone who would encourage Finn to show his emotions so openly.

When they have separated again Finn asks, "Blaine,…,I heard Kurt crying, alone in his room…last weekend, when Carole took Blaine out for a bit, to shop. I wanted to comfort him, but I was afraid to only upset him more. I don't want to hurt Kurt again like I have before."

Finn sees a frown build on Burt's face at that statement. "…with words I mean. Or any other way, actually."

Burt nods in understanding and reaches out a moment later to gently squeeze Finn's shoulder, "You've grown a lot since then. Your mom and I know that. Thank you for wanting to be there for him. It means a lot to me. We'll find a way for you to do that. Help the two of them through this too, okay?"

Finn nods, expression, relieved and thankful, then "…is Blaine very ill? He looked so…sad, when he came out of the doctor's office earlier."

"Carole talked to you some days ago, right?"

"Yeah. She said he keeps having nightmares, and," Finn swallows looking down, "…that he does not seem to know how to stop them hurting him…the nightmares."

Burt nods, trying to collect his thoughts – the last two hours have been spent in the kitchen, with Carole, talking about all that she had learned at the doctor's office today, that Burt had not known yet…and then, too, about what they both had learned. But how to tell Finn, and how much to tell Finn, even though he and Carole have discussed that too is still no easy call to make now that Finn is sitting right here in front of him so clearly shaken.

"Is it…um…is it from bullying?"

Burt wishes so badly he knew how to answer that, "Some of it…I think. Blaine hasn't really been able to tell us yet."

"Not even Kurt?" Finn asks eyes wide in surprise more than shock.

"Not even Kurt," and Burt, saying this, thinks how strange it is that during Christmas break, when Kurt had broken down in his arms, sobbing, giving way to all his worries for Blaine's safety and happiness, this too had been his first thought. _If Kurt does not know…then…._

Ever since the first weekend that Kurt had brought Blaine home with him, in the very week they had met, they have been so close.

After three weeks it had seemed they knew everything about each other. Speaking and moving effortlessly together, in the house, the garden; through crowded shopping malls, as Burt once dragging along to find a Christmas present for Carole had discovered himself.

_And the way they talk at every single Friday Night Dinner._ Burt and Carole had smiled at each other more than once, either of them mouthing _…old married couple. _The other always nodding with a smile.

Yes. So…_Finn has noticed too. _And with that thought in mind Burt fixes his eyes on Finn's, a smile on his lips, instantly causing Finn's lips to turn up a little as well, forehead formed into a frown, "What?"

"You asked if they are going to be alright…I'm sure they will be okay, together. We're going to do all we can to make that happen. You, your mom, and me."

Finn's expression is still serious, as is Burt's, but both are looking a little less troubled.

"For now…all we really know is that Blaine has been hurt and needs us…to help him figure out how to handle that people can hurt each other as badly as he has been hurt by someone; and …he probably needs us even more to allow him to learn that not all people want to hurt him, or anyone."

"Okay," Finn replies, looking a lot less in distress than before. "Thanks, Dad."

Burt, pulling Finn into another hug replies smiling, "You're welcome…Son."

Finn does not let go for another three minutes after it has sunken in what Burt has just said.

And Burt thinks this might be the longest hug Finn has ever allowed anyone to hold him in.

After seeing Blaine shying away, again and again, all this time from Burt's presence, this means so much more to Burt than it would have some months ago; tells him so many good, great things about his relationship with Finn. _Maybe one day I can comfort Blaine like this too_.

It is only now that Burt realizes how much that would mean to him.


	16. After shocks

**A/N: **I have been ill, so I apologize for the lack of updates. I hope I am much better for good this time and I will have the energy to write on a more regular basis.

I missed writing this as much as you missed reading it, probably more.

As always, I hope I created something that does enthrall not disappoint.

Love, M

* * *

><p><strong>After shocks<strong>

Kurt and Blaine do not come down to dinner that night.

Half-way through the meal Carole goes upstairs and checks on them.

She does not have to think twice about leaving them be as she finds them.

_They look…at home in each other's arms_. Cuddled up on Kurt's bed, maybe asleep, clearly still tightly curled around each other, as Burt had told Carole he had found them too, hours ago.

_I doubt they would be able to stomach anything tonight anyway, and…they do need all the breaks they can catch from…from…_, Carole wishes she knew so much more than it being pain, heavy and crushing.

As Carole turns to make her way back downstairs she swears she hears Blaine's voice in nothing more than a whisper, "I feel so helpless." If Kurt gives a reply Carole does not hear it, and she certainly does not linger to try and catch one. She loves these boys too much, by far, to ever betray their trust like that.

As she re-enters the kitchen, a heavy sigh escaping her lips, Burt looks up at her with a smile she knows is meant to comfort.

They don't often cry together.

Usually, it is one holding the other, overcome by memories hard, too hard and huge to just push away or swiftly swallow back down. But today, today talking over the events of the last hours once more, as they lie in bed in each other's embrace, Burt and Carole cry together, confessing to each other the wish to know better, to feel more certain about what to do next.

No matter how hard they wish, alone, together,…they don't…they don't know better.

They know, however, that just standing by to wait and see what happens next has never felt more wrong. It takes them no time to agree on that.

So it is this night, that Carole and Burt make a beginning, an important one, they will only themselves recognize as such much later.

How could they possibly know what it will lead to, the simple act of opening up one of the websites from the Doctor's list – a copy of which she had pressed in their hands too, as they were leaving the office, not wanting to make it too obvious to the boys - and beginning to read, to study together, in an attempt to find a way to get through to Blaine, in an attempt to figure out how to talk to the boy so clearly suffering.

xxxx

It is hours later, and the hall down, that two boys lie dreaming in each other's arms.

One of them could do better than well without the images swirling in his mind, creating a dark current he feels helplessly objected to.

After the day they both have had a nightmare should not be a surprise.

And it is not,…not at all.

But that does not help Blaine right now.

He might be considered in charge of his dreams, his nightmares, but…being in charge is not the same as being in control, not at all.

"_I feel so helpless."_

Blaine's words had kept echoing in Kurt's thoughts until the overwhelming exhaustion, he had been feeling for hours already, had lured Kurt into sleep.

Nightmares had been all Blaine had been able to think about after they had left the doctor's office. The pounding in his head finally growing so much he had had to say something to Kurt, to ease some of the pressure building in him.

It had been strange to say anything, to anyone, Blaine never had before. So the words had felt heavy, and hard to form on his tongue.

Kurt had only moved in closer as Blaine's whole body had begun to shake that afternoon, on this very bed. And that had done it for Blaine, had made it possible for him to finally, finally say out loud what keeps pushing him down, _"The nightmares,…_," Blaine had swallowed hard and paused for almost two minutes before,_ "…I feel so helpless."_

Kurt had gently brushed the stray curls of Blaine's forehead and placed a soft, warm, open-mouthed kiss onto Blaine's skin, lips lingering in a comforting quiet saying all to Blaine, that Kurt needed him to know, to remember, in this moment on the brink of sleep, that held too much uncertainties to seem to be even so much as capable of holding comfort to any degree at all.

Kurt had only been able to lie there, hold Blaine and hope he would be able to remember that no matter what the night would bring for either of them, the comfort of Kurt's embrace, the comfort of Kurt's love, would be here, all night, for Blaine to wake up to.

Kurt, having fought it for a long time, eventually had fallen asleep as well. So now Blaine awakes, a gasp tearing from his lips parted wide as he tries to choke air down, to Kurt sleeping next to him.

Blaine's nightmares are deviant, tricky creatures, creeping up on him every single time in the most vicious of ways.

The steps they take muffled, their voices hushed, until they reach him, reach for him - not to draw him in…never drawing him in, but pushing him around, pushing down hard on his chest, taking…taking what feels like everything that matters.

…_Kurt_.

In the last months, almost as soon as they had met, his nightmares have gained that new component,…Kurt being taken from him.

It is not that Kurt is some magical being that Blaine believes to be able to break the spell, but Blaine had been enchanted by the so delicate looking boy fighting to be strong for himself and the people he loves, yes, Blaine had been enchanted that very first day.

Kurt had brought back the realization, all too real, that first day they met, that beneath the mask, somewhere, there still was, had been all this time a real boy, a real human being, struggling to be heard and seen, wishing to feel something, anything real that would be something other than the pain reaching deep, that Blaine had then not been able to remember anymore not having been there.

Somehow it is slowly shaping up to be the starting point of every single one of his nightmares, that moment, _the moment_ he loses sight of Kurt in a crowd, or loses Kurt's touch, hand slipping out of his own, the last thing, the last thing real he can feel, the only thing warm, and alive, ever, in his dreams - before the memories dark take over again - the gentle brushing of Kurt's fingertips against his own.

Things…_everything_ stops making sense, with Kurt gone, every single time - images turn from crystal clear to smudges, stains, dark and… disturbing in their ambiguity.

It is the one thing Blaine always remembers when waking up from his nightmares, has ever since he was a small child, waking up to thoughts still tainted with stale pain, covered in _Those…shapes, dark…and nothing but bleak, they could be anything._

It has always been what frightens Blaine most, is to this day, that…_they could be anything. _The thought often stays with him longer than the images themselves, keeps echoing in him, taints hours, days, once the panic coming with it had lasted over a whole week. But that was before Kurt, it had been a week a lot of the Warblers had come up to him and asked if he was alright, he had seemed so jumpy.

He had waved them off, played it down as something brought on by a lack of sleep, which, strictly speaking was not that big of a stretch to the truth.

Sometimes, when he feels brave, or tries to convince himself he is, or at least one day – maybe – could be, Blaine finds himself staring at, trying to stare into that blackness to try and figure out what he is looking at, what seems to be living…inside of him.

The days he spends staring after the dark retreating have more than doubled in number since…since Blaine has met Kurt, and Blaine is not even aware of that so simple seeming fact just yet. He will be one day, the day he can feel that the healing has really started. A still far off day right now…but one to come.

It sometimes takes days for him to lose their echoes, no matter how hard he tries.

Awaking to more darkness, deep and hollow…how is he not to feel like he is suffocating on, drowning in his nightmares still surrounding him? How is he not to run?

Today Blaine surprises himself, when he does not slip out of Kurt's arms and down the stairs, does not take off out of the house, the suffocating blackness choking him.

Blaine instead let's out his boyfriend's name in a labored, half-chocked sob, any sound clearly painful to carry past the walls standing thick and tall in Blaine's mind. "Kurt?"

An even lighter sleeper than before ever since his dad's heart attack, Kurt wakes up with his own name still in his ears and a curly haired boy trembling in his arms – begging with every fiber of his body for comfort, for answers that will lead them to a constant change for the better.

Sometimes life is all about trusting yourself to know the right thing to do for the person you love.

Kurt has always had trouble trusting others…

…but…

…he does trust Blaine, and, more importantly in this moment, thanks to his mother's love, he has always had trust in himself.


	17. Real

**A/N: **In this chapter you will find something other than Klaine-break-up-talk, because it is seriously starting to get on my nerves. We all know the writing on Glee keeps taking turns for the worse, honestly, with that in mind, and the writers' general inability to show any depth to and change in relationships without tearing them apart just so that they can figure out how to stupidly glue them back together again, I have expected nothing else for Klaine to come, for a long time. Rest assured in my stories they will continue to grow together in the most wonderful ways I hope.

Love, M

P.S.: Would LOOOVE to know how you feel about all this. xo M

* * *

><p><strong>Getting Away<br>**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17: Real<strong>

* * *

><p>Kurt gently shifts both their weigth, easing Blaine onto his back. Kurt would get up and pull every single window of his room wide open if it was not so cold outside and Kurt not so terribly afraid Blaine might still use that opportunity to run, again.<p>

Kurt cannot take that thought, cannot take the chance of having to go through losing Blaine … _'not again.' _

So instead he throws the blankets of them, the pillows of their bed too, so that there are no weird angles, no distraction, no materials suffocating, no heat unwanted.

Blaine lets out a little yelp as Kurt pulls the last pillow right from under Blaine's head, leaves him, eyes now wide open, looking right into Kurt's.

Kurt's whole body hovering above Blaine's their body heat is pulsing against each other.

The heat only increases as Kurt wordlessly holds his boyfriend's gaze lowering his whole body onto Blaine's.

Resting on his forearms, Kurt buries his fingers deep in Blaine's curls at the back of his neck, as their chests press closer and closer together.

Their eyes are still glued to each other all this time, flutter shut only as Kurt rests his forehead against Blaine's.

In the quiet both boys feel nothing but their chests rising against each other, Kurt trying to keep his breathing calm in the hope of pulling Blaine with him into a state of relaxation, hear nothing but their own breathing and hearts pumping blood through their bodies.

Kurt is the one taking in a sharp breath when Blaine tilts his chin and connects their lips in a kiss turning hungry as soon as Blaine flips them over only seconds later.

Kurt tightens his arms on Blaine's sides, buries his fingers even deeper in Blaine's curls, deepens the kiss, afraid Blaine will let go any second now, is about to make a run for it.

It is a breathless, surprised sound that escapes his throat when Kurt instead feels himself being pressed deep into the mattress by Blaine's whole body now resting on him, legs intertwining as Blaine shifts a little on top of him. "Blaine?"

"Kurt, gosh, Kurt, I … I," Blaine breathes out heavy, burying his face in the crook of Kurt's neck.

"It's okay. I'm here. We're here. I've got you," Kurt says softly, wrapping his whole body around Blaine's, keeping him close, keeping all of them connected as much as he can with the material of their pajamas still between them.

Another slight shift has their clothed erections press together through the thin pajama fabric, Kurt gasping and Blaine letting out short stuttering breathes against Kurt's neck and right ear.

They stay pressed closely together, just like this. Simply touching, simply feeling each other close with all they have, with all they are, indisputably, undoubtedly here with each other, completely; neither wishing to so much as move a single fraction of an inch, both boys' breathing heavy and wrecked, their very own melody, their very own harmony.

"Feels so good," Blaine stutters out minutes later, "Being close to you feels so good."

As he feels Kurt's hands run though his hair gently in response he adds, "I love you so much."

"I love _you_, I want you to be happy, Blaine. More than anything I want you to be happy. What do you need? Please tell me what you need."

And then Kurt feels tears hitting his neck, heavy, hot, sticky. Followed by words hitting his ear, "I don't … I don't know, I don't know."

And as Kurt allows his hands to gently cup Blaine's cheeks and guide Blaine's head upwards so their eyes are locked once again he is still whispering "I don't know," over and over.

Kurt sees the honest desperation in Blaine's eyes, not for the first time, the longing for, "Answers. I will … we will find answers. I promise. I promise, Blaine, Love," Kurt finds himself softly saying before he himself knows it.

"I want that. I do," and with that tears start streaming even heavier than before down Blaine's face, hit Kurt's cheeks and neck as Blaine nods shakily over and over, and Kurt hears Blaine nothing less than beg, "Don't let me run ever again. Please, don't let me run ever again. I … it makes everything better for two minutes, and then it makes everything worse for so long. I don't want to ... I can't lose us. Please, Kurt, don't let me run anymore."

"I won't. I won't," Kurt promises holding Blaine close until they fall both back into a sleep deepened by exhaustion.

xxxx

Burt entering the room to wake them up, hours later, is greeted with a sight he had not expected: Pillows and blankets everywhere but the bed, the two boys in it wound around each other as tightly as possible, Blaine's face buried completely in Kurt's chest. And Burt has no idea _'… how anyone could possible breathe like this,' _the gentle, regular rise and fall of Blaine's back, he stands watching for a minute, or rather five, tells him otherwise. Kurt too looks for once these days peaceful in his sleep, and Burt has no doubt it is the fact that _' … they are together, and who am I to ever take any of that away from them.'_

So he walks over, on his way picking up one of the blankets from of the floor, drapes it over both boys and leaves them sleeping, hoping the much needed rest will bring them energy lasting a sufficient while for once these days.

Carole and him leave the boys pancakes, fruit, and a note on the kitchen counter, 'Out for the day, errands to run, have our phones with us. Finn is at Puck's. Love you boys. Burt and Carole.'

Columbus is not too far away but they want some time there to make sure they get everything right. It might after all take a trip to several stores to find all they need.


	18. Trying Doubt

**Getting Away**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18: Trying Doubt<strong>

* * *

><p>Traffic had been unexpectedly bad this morning, and it had taken them almost three hours instead of two, to get to Columbus. Burt and Carole had quickly agreed the previous day that it would be worth the trip to make sure they, hopefully, would get everything they would be looking for in one go.<p>

"I still feel uneasy about leaving them alone together for too long like this," Burt had half grumbled sadly as they had gotten into the car this morning.

"Put our trust in them and hope for the best," Carole had said, reaching over and affectionately squeezing Burt's forearm, "I think it is the best we can do, for all of us. They need to know we still trust them, to have the best chance at getting better I mean. We can make this unintentionally harder for them, or intentionally that little bit easier. I think, being offered unquestioning trust when you are hurt makes it easier to ask for help when you really need it. I want them to trust us, more than anything."

Burt had nodded at his wife's words, and with a heavy sigh and one last glance at the front door, in the rearview mirror, Burt had turned the key in the ignition.

Carole is the one driving now, on their way back to Lima.

It had been a long drive to Columbus, an even longer afternoon after they had helped along their nerves with a comfortably quiet lunch.

Burt had counted up to thirteen, then given up on keeping track of how many more bookstores and other shops they had been in all over the city.

He is dozing in the passenger seat as Carole throws a quick glance over, before deciding on stopping for a coffee, now that the drive back to Lima has gone smooth up to the halfway mark.

She reaches over and guides the soft palm of her hand gently along Burt's right cheek, "Hon, I am getting some coffee, you want something too?"

It takes a moment for Burt to blink the tiredness out of his eyes, "Hey," he mumbles still half drunk on sleep.

"Coffee? To sober up?" Carole says smiling lovingly.

"I'm not drunk," Burt mumbles in answer.

"Not on alcohol no," Carole teases through a warm smile. "Want to go sit inside for a while? The place looks quiet, and I need …," she breaks off briefly, starts over, "We should have some time before we need to be back to get dinner done, if Blaine and Kurt don't plan on ordering something in anyway."

"What time is it?" Burt asks.

Carole, engine long turned off, glances at her wristwatch, "Quarter past Five."

Burt shoots her a worried look they have been gone all day, literraly, _'...who knows what could have hap..._.'

"Want to call Kurt and Blaine?" Carole asks softly knowing that look on her husband's face all too well.

"Yeah."

"Okay, Hon. I'll wait inside, and order already. Your usual?" Carole receives a smile and a nod in answer. "See you in a moment," she chimes as she climbs out of the car.

It really is cozy inside the cafe, and quiet, and Carole quickly spots the table she wants to sit at, that just … feels … right. Carole treasures the things in live that feel right above … pretty much everything.

Burt finds her sitting there two steaming cups and a slice of apple pie to share already on the table by the windows. She smiles back at him wide as she spots his clearly more relaxed and relieved expression.

"They are fine. Blaine wants to make dinner for around seven, so we are all in the clear."

Lately, Blaine has taken to making dinner for the family more and more often, and Kurt seeing his dad looking worried had explained, _"He says it relaxes him to do something with his hands he knows is productive and not harmful but good for others, us. It's kind of his way of saying he loves us, and thank you … for everything."_

They simply sit for a couple of minutes, sharing the pie and sipping their hot drinks, then Burt watches Carole's expression turn serious again, as it had been all day rushing through the stores together, scanning, who knows how many shelves for books that might just be what they need, what Blaine needs, Kurt, even Finn – their family. Because this has weeks ago already clearly become a family matter, affecting everyone.

Her voice sounds heavy and sad when she speaks again, "We should get going again soon, but ..."

And Burt is quick to take hold of Carole's right hand resting on the table top, squeezes gently, "Carole? What is it? We have time, they are fine right now, but you are not. Tell me, please?"

"We need to figure out … um … what to keep for now, and what to actually give them soon, maybe tomorrow, or even today? The sooner the better? I don't know." Her head hangs as she stops.

"Hey, Honey," Burt tries to coax her gaze gently back up with a tone deep and soothing.

"Yeah?" Carole sounds anything but confident now.

"First of all, I love you. Secondly, you were brilliant, BRILLIANT, today. I could not have done this alone."

"Me neither," Carole says through a half smile, then, through a lump of tears clearly swallowed back, "Imagine how terribly alone Blaine must have felt all this time, … how helpless."

Burt knows Carole more than anything needs focus now, something to do to get her, to get them through this, "So what were you thinking of keeping for now?" Burt asks.

"The book on claustrophobia for starters. He has so many other things to work through. And I'm still not sure he actually has it. I mean …, I'm afraid I will put ideas into his head, that will sidetrack him, or worse, have him think that _I_ think something is wrong with him. I don't want him to … I could not bear the thought of making him fell rejected, or any less perfect a person because he has this, whatever it really is, to work through. We all have stuff to work through. Some of it is just so much harder than the other- so unfair."

"He knows you love him," Burt tries to reassure.

"Does he? I mean I'm sometimes not even absolutely sure what I am or should try to be for Kurt. How could this be any easier with Blaine? And for him …, I want to be what he needs. But the truth is, the truth is … I still have _no idea_ what it is Blaine _really_ needs. And I feel like I should know. I should know by now, shouldn't I?"

Burt gets up from the seat opposite Carole and sits down right next to her, pulling her into a sideway hug, right arm coming to rest around her shoulder keeping her close, "I do too, want to be what he needs." Carole still looks so sad, Burt holds her tighter and adds, "Hey, remember what you said this morning about trust?"

Carole nods.

So Burt goes on, "If we trust them and they trust us, and we give, offer, them all the help we can, and space to talk and we wait for them to come to us with the questions too big for them, it will be fine, we will be fine, all of us, as long as we make sure they don't forget we are always here for them to turn to."

She lets out a deep heavy sigh, Burt thinks she must have been holding in all day, so focused, so _' …determined to do things, to do this right, to get it all right.'_

They sit in quiet a while longer, half-empty drinks turning cold before they get up and return to their car, drive home to the children they hope know how loved they are, still both afraid they are not showing them enough of that love, unaware of that little seeming detail in truth so huge, so so huge: trying to be better than decent parents is making them great ones already.

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><p>AN: I hope you are as in love with Burt and Carole as I am and like this chapter. I know it is nothing spectacular, I hope you like it still, maybe even for that very fact, quiet moments can be something great in any story I think. Thank you for reading and reviewing should you choose to.


	19. Giraffes And Cookies

**Getting Away**

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><p><strong>Chapter 19: Giraffes and Cookies<br>**

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><p>Home again, Burt and Carole drop the numerous shopping bags in the hall for now, before taking of their coats and shoes.<p>

Carole briefly scans all the bags before picking out the two dark pink ones with big blue giraffes on them.

Burt smiles at her as he sees her picking them up, remembering the certainty with which Carole had picked out what is inside them now, in the shop.

It had been refreshing, and reassuring alike, to see her so confident, after all the hours they had spent before brooding over row upon row of books - most of which had been either confusing or surprisingly appalling by their covers alone already.

Burt had found himself thinking, again and again, reading the same thoughts in his wife's furrowed features, _'How did all this get published in the first place? How can this help anyone?'_

They had found themselves too very grateful for the list their doctor had given them, it had kept them stearing clear of some of the anyway dubious looking titles.

'_How can they justify putting a book 'Find Strength in Our Saviour's Sorrow' into a health care section, any health care section?' _Carole had wondered and angrily thought about Kurt or Blaine finding this here looking for actual help, knowing it had been written by the very people who wished them just that, sorrow, for … _'…for being brave and taking pride in being who they are.' _ Carole had almost burst out into tears more than once scanning bookshelves for titles and finding a lot more than she had come for in the process.

After about half the stores Carole had taken and kept holding her husband's hand walking into the other half, holding on to love, reaching for focus in between the ignorance.

If she has learned one thing today, walking around all these book stores in Columbus, it is that ignorant people can write books too. It is so easy to forget when only buying books online, _'It is too easy to pretend the things you don't see don't exist.' _

Burt and Carole do not need to call for the boys or go looking for them, they have heard the warming sound of laughter coming from the kitchen ever since they have stepped through the door of their home.

It goes quiet in the other room for a moment as they take the few steps left towards the kitchen.

Entering they find Kurt facing them standing next to the kitchen counter, wooden spoon covered in some kind of chocolate batter in his right hand, a blob of the same batter on his nose, a streak of it on his left cheek and a big smile brightening his whole face, eyes closed, as Blaine, his back to Burt and Carole, stands hugging Kurt tightly.

Only as Blaine lets go and hearing Kurt's "Oh," turns to find Burt and Carole standing there do they realize why it had gone so quiet in here all of a sudden before they had entered.

Blaine is sporting an almost identical blob of batter on his nose, and his cheeks and lips are cherry red, matching Kurt's lips still parted in wordless surprise.

"Hi," Blaine says still smiling, and Burt is happy to see both of them so relaxed.

"Hey," Carole says smiling too.

"We, … we just put in the cookies and got the dinner out of the oven. Vegetarian lasagne. You're right on time, it just needs to cool down for a couple of minutes," Kurt explains.

Burt's eyes are still on Blaine though as he says, "Good," thinking, _'Cooking and baking too, mmh? Having something to do with his head and hands really does wonders for Blaine's happiness, I haven't seen him this happy … ever, maybe. I am so glad Carole insisted on stopping at that one more store, I think he will love the stuff we got. And I know Kurt will.' _Burt is taken from his thoughts by Kurt's words directed at Carole.

"What's with the bags?" Kurt asks as he puts the wooden spoon into the sink and takes of the white apron quickly brushing the fabric over Blaine's nose, Blaine lifts up one end of his apron and gently guides it over Kurt's nose.

"Wait!" Blaine adds softly, as Kurt turns away to put his apron aside and holds out his hand for Blaine's too. Blaine, unknotting his apron at the back takes it of and gently traces Kurt's left cheek with the fabric as well, "When I hugged you you got some here too."

Kurt blushes, before taking Blaine's dirty apron out of his hands and putting it aside on the kitchen counter with his own while pecking Blaine on the lips.

Carole watches on, smiling still, then replies "The bags are for you two, actually."

"For us? But I thought you went out to …," Kurt is easily interrupted by his dad as Kurt himself is still busy interlacing fingers with Blaine.

"To get some things we all needed, yeah," Burt says proudly.

Carole walks over to the kitchen table, and places both bags, looking identical from the outside, onto the surface, "Anyway, why don't you have a look and then we can all eat?"

Carole takes a step to the side as the boys approach the bags.

"Which one should I take?" Blaine asks squeezing Kurt's hand tighter, while looking clearly nervous between the bags, then between Carole and Burt, causing Burt to wonder when exactly the last time was _' … anyone got the boy anything without him having to beg for it? Out of love.' _And it hits Burt with a pang, _'We really need to talk about his family life one of these days.__' _And as much as Burt wants to know, thinks Carole and Kurt need to know as well he cannot help that dreaded feeling rising, the fear that Blaine might shut them all out again, shut himself away from even his own reach, wounds turned scars still hurting ... too much. _'What have they done to you? Who has done this to you, Blaine?'_ _  
><em>

Kurt squeezes back reassuringly, himself now looking between his parents questioningly.

"Okay, I know this sounds lame," Burt says, shaking himself out of his thoughts, "but we got the exact same things for both of you, so you could use them together, or separately at the same time or any time really."

"Not lame," Kurt answers beaming at his dad, then at Carole, "Not lame at all."

Blaine's eyes are still glued to the blue giraffe logo as he lets go off Kurt's hand and shakily reaches for one of the bags.

The shaking in his hands only stops as he feels Kurt's arms wrap gently in a reassuring motion around his waist and feels Kurt's head come to rest, warming the there exposed skin, gently against his right shoulder and neck.

"Love you," Kurt murmurs softly to Blaine, holding him close, keeping him warm now that they have stepped away from the heat of the oven, driving away the shake completely with his words, even giving Blaine the focus to answer while he begins to open up the bag and peak inside, "Love you."

Kurt cannot see Blaine's eyes go wide from where he is standing, but he can feel the surprise in the stuttering breath Blaine lets out as he reaches into the bag and takes out the first item his fingers find, places it on the table and asks into the room, but really Burt and Carole, "How …, how did you know?" because he is absolutely certain he has not even told Kurt about it.

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><p>AN:

**IMPORTANT! Please read:**

Hi! I have to let you know that I am **thinking of discontinuing this story. Why? **Well, this story is very dear to me, and I have the big frame almost completely planned out in my head, and since it is such a long term project, and a tough topic, I get only depressed writing the darker parts when I get no feedback posting them.

It is hard to feel like I am going through this story alone, especially since I have to carry around with me all the while what really happened to Blaine, and it is so not pretty. So if you care enough about this story to want to keep reading it please drop me some lines from time to time just to let me know you are still here with me, please? If I could do this alone I would have written this completely and then posted it fairly quickly; as it is I am not that good or confident a writer yet.

Having said that, I want to give a big thank you to the few amazing people who have kept encouraging me in writing this throughout this story without me having to ask for it. I could not have come this far without you.

I guess I am mostly confused as to why people keep reading and even adding this story to their favorites and yet I received only one review for the last chapter, and there are plenty chapters I don't have a single one on. Your words can be so inspiring for me, so it pains me to hear nothing from you – nothing at all.

I also really don't get why you don't like to review, but maybe that is just me, when I read and enjoy a story there is so much joy for me in letting the author know I love their work. I am confused to say the least. Can you guys explain this to me? I would be immensely grateful. After all the point of writing and posting here is not to feel lonely but frankly, lately I do.

Thanks for reading!


	20. Uncover

**A/N: **

Hi! You made the decision SOOOO easy in the end. Thank you for all the love and helpful criticism in your reviews to the last chapter. **I will see this story through to the end. This is the one story out of all of my WIPs that I will definitly keep writing on over the next months while I have an extremely heavy workload at university because my studies are coming to a close within the next year and all kinds of stress is breaking loose now with months of exams and a really big paper to be written beforehand, around the word count of this story sofar actually. And I am just fighting to stay relaxed and calm, because I know all else does never help, it is just that I need good marks to be allowed to do the job I want afterwards, and I get scared so easy that I am not good enough, ever, to even deserve the marks I need. A whole lot like I got scared with this story I guess, like I might be wasting everyone's time, you know?  
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**I am so so glad you let me know, all of you, that you don't think I am wasting your or my time and energy.  
><strong>

** Please be patient with me. I am afraid I might not have a lot of energy to spare, and I want you to know that if you have to wait a very long time for a new chapter I am so sorry and it is not because I don't want to write, but simply because I might not be able to do you and the story justice in what little hours I will have left to freely write as of now. But I promise I'll do my best and try to update at least once a month, hopefully more, and I really want it to be real chapters, not just fillers. **

**All my other stories are as of now officially on hiatus until I can allow myself to focus on them again, probably in about 6-8 months from now. Although I might occasionally of course break my own rules and update something still:) I hate having to be so strict with myself but otherwise I fear I won't make it through my studies in one piece. I hope you understand and can support me in this. Writing is my life, unfortunately I am no J.K. Rowling yet and cannot live of it in any shape, way, or form.**

I was so surprised how many guest reviews I got. I guess that means you cannot PM me either if you do not have an account on here. I wish you did. I really, really, love talking to you guys beyond reviews.

So, that in mind, I have decided to do what I have seen some other writers on here do, respond to reviews, especially guest reviews, in the next chapter. I hope that is okay with you, please let me know if not, and signing with a unique username straight from your imagination in the Guest field would be so helpful for me to reply to you more directly if you are a guest. Thank you!

To **anon**: Thank you so much for the encouragement. I appreciate it so much.

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><p>To <strong>Guest<strong> who wrote _Totally enjoy it!_ : Thank you for taking the time to let me know.

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><p>To <strong>Guest <strong>who got away from her phone and on her computer to encourage me to keep going: I was not aware you and so many others read on the phone. Thank you for letting me know. And an even bigger thank you for making the extra effort of getting on your computer to tell me.

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><p>To <strong>ajrecord: <strong>Thank you for too letting me know about the phone thing. I had really no idea about that before since I never do any reading on my phone myself. My eyes start aching at the thought of such a tiny screen to be honest. Isn't it uncomfortable?

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><p>To <strong>haushisa<strong>: Thank you so much for the support. I hope I won't disappoint.

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><p>To <strong>yourprettyprettypetticoat<strong>: I know, misunderstandings happen so easily. But I promise it is not that easy to offend me, and I am sure even your criticism would be a pleasure to read. I would love for you to try, am so thankful you did with this review of yours to the last chapter. I would love to give you feedback to your reviews whenever you decide you can find it in yourself to give me feedback to my stories. I dearly hope that sounds like a good deal to you and I'll hear from you again soon in a PM or review. I totally get if you don't want to put messages out here for the whole world to read. PMs are just as precious to me as reviews, as long as they contain your thoughts :)

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><p>To <strong>GothicGold<strong>: Thank you for reviewing. I actually remember you reviewing on a different story of mine, a while ago, because I really liked your username. Also, you really don't need to be insecure around me about your English, I am no native English speaker myself, and I am sure I make mistakes all the time, people are just kind enough not to lynch me for it every time. So I would love to hear more from you in your kind of English :)!

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><p>To <strong>Louise815: <strong>Thank you to you too for the encouragement.

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><p>To <strong>Rory46<strong>: So was it on my stories, reading my stories, that you did not know what to say? And is that a bad thing? Sounds like that to me. Hope though it's not. Also, I do not have a beta for this story, if you would love to do the job, I'd love to talk to you about it. Would be a totally new experience for me. And I love those! How would that work?

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><p>To <strong>Angelic Toaster<strong>: Your username always makes me smile. So surreal. Thank you so much for all the love. Your review is so amazingly heartwarming. THANK YOU!

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><p>To <strong>Guest <strong>who talked to me about _Blaine's struggles_: It means so much to me that you care so deeply about this story, you left such a wonderful review. Thank you!

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><p>To <strong>intensewhatever<strong>: Thank you for another loving little letter of encouragement for all of my writing. You know how I feel!

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><p>To <strong>AshtrayTragedyM.D<strong>: I hope it did not come across as a threat, I only wanted to let people know that I was thinking about discontinuing, instead of just doing that, to find out if people still want to read on. I would be just as happy about PMs actually. I am not out to collect reviews in especially high numbers but I missed terribly not having someone to talk to about the story. I hope you get what I mean. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me!

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><p>To <strong>Guest <strong>who talked to me about _stories as validation, and enjoying writing_: Thank you for letting me know your point of view. I hope I do not see reviews as validation, I just really miss talking to people about my writing, and it gets so frustrating to see hits on your story but no one willing to talk to you about it in a review or PM. I hope you know what I mean.

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><p>To <strong>Guest <strong>who let me know she relates to Blaine: Wow, your review surprised me so much. I had no idea it was really possible to relate to my Blaine for anyone but me, although of course I had hoped for it and feared it too, because it is not the greatest place to be. I dearly hope to hear more of your thoughts on this story. Thank you!

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><p>To <strong>laozi<strong>: Thank you for pointing the forward progression matter out to me. I know I have issues with my pacing of most of my stories, I think. I have a hard time leaving things out once my mind has informed me they exist within the realm of a story. Or were you just talking about me not updating often enough, fast enough? Either way, I am aware both keeps being an issue with me, and I hope I will get better at these things in time, writing more and more. Also, great to see your username again in my reviews, I love your insights!

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><p>To <strong>DecayingBody<strong>: Awesome username first of all! Secondly, thank you for offering inspiration to keep going. Hope to hear more from you soon.

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><p>To <strong>Guest <strong>who encouraged me to _Keep up the great work!_: Just, Thank you. Sometimes that is all it needs to find new energy to keep going.

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><p>To <strong>snowangellms<strong>: My tumblr is my username from here. Do you think I should do more with my tumblr and my fics? So far I have not been inspired to do so. I think I am subscribed to your tumblr, I seem to remember. Not entirely sure anymore though. As for the story, is a few things having been kind of vague a good thing, like mystery building? Or were they like sloppy vague? Because the latter was so not my intention. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me!

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><p>To <strong>Rebbeca<strong>: Thank you first of all for not leaving the review just as _Guest_, it makes it so difficult to reply in a coherent manner. Secondly, thank you so much for encouraging me to write on, I dearly hope to hear more from you as the story goes on.

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><p>To <strong>HeartlessRomanticWithoutAPen <strong>: Alexx, thank you so much for letting me know that this story is engaging enough to even have new people come to it, still, and want to stick around. That is amazing to know. Thank you for your enthusiasm for this story.

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><p>To <strong>K4RLY3<strong>: That is so awesome that you care about his relationship with Carole and Burt. I hope you will love how I develop it, and I'd love to keep hearing your opinion about that especially. Thank you for reviewing!

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><p>To <strong>musicbeyondmagic: <strong>First of all, what a sweet username. I love it. Thank you for reviewing. Not just now but so, so, many times before. I always loved hearing from you, and I hope I will keep hearing from you and you will love where I take this story. Thank you for all the love for this story and me. I appreciate you so, so, much. Thank you!

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><p>To <strong>just-grey: <strong>I so hope you will keep loving the story, and keep letting me know your thoughts on it. Thanks!

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><p>To <strong>mynamjo<strong>: I hope my writing will be intriguing enough in the future chapters that you feel like there is something you want to say to me about it. I would really like that. Thank you for reviewing!

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><p>To the you lovely <strong>Guest<strong> who reviewed three times all over the story and singed **X. - mouse: **Fantabulous is such an amazing word. Thank you so much for introducing me to it, and I had no idea either it is in the dictionary. Also, I have done that too, bawled reading fanfiction, and gone swimming without goggles, although on very much separate occasions :) Finally, thank you so much for encouraging me to keep writing, I really need that from time to time; so much self-doubt, it's really not pretty, but what bothers me most that I know it wastes so much energy, and I often still can't help it, despite knowing. So a big thank you for helping me trust myself more. P.S.: Your signature at the end of your reviews is so fascinating, what does it stand for? Thank you again for all your kind words.

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><p>To the lovely <strong>Guest <strong>who told me he/she was too wrapped up in the story to review: That is one of the best compliments I think you can ever give a writer. I hope I will hear more of your awesomeness as the story progresses. Thank you so much!

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><p>To <strong>butterflyrain23<strong>: Your username makes me smile so much, for one because I love rain, for another because now I have images of someone standing in the rain and throwing bars of butter around. I know my brain, but butter, fly, rain, was apparently just too tempting for my mind to hold still:) Or my inner Brittany just came out to play. Thank you for your reviews. I am so glad you think I am doing well, it is hard writing this sometimes I think because I care so so much about it. This chapter for example has been on my computer two-thirds done for weeks now, but I got scared of ruining it and could not finish it for a far too long while. I dearly hope it was worth the wait though.

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><p>To the <strong>Guest <strong>who called this a really good piece of writing. Thank you so much, Sweety. I hope this chapter has you still thinking it to be so. I am nervous about it, because we are really starting to go deeper into Blaine's personal life now.

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><p><strong>I struggled a long time to find the way to go on from the last chapter. I hope I don't disappoint.<br>**

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 20: Uncover<strong>

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><p>"Know? Know what?" Blaine hears Burt asking, finding the middle aged man's eyes wide with honest confusion and surprise as Blaine looks up from the bag still in his hands and the box of wax crayons now lying beside it on the kitchen table.<p>

Glancing over at Carole he finds her looking just as surprised as Burt.

Blaine feels Kurt offering an even stronger hold now to retreat into completely if needed. Then, a moment later, after trying his best to focus on the feeling of security, Blaine hears Kurt ask quietly, "What is it? Can I do something?"

Blaine's tone is not frantic or unkind as he answers, but the word alone has Kurt worry, "No."

And Kurt cannot stop worrying even more deeply as Blaine steps out of his arms. "Blaine?"

Hearing his name spoken, infused with so much fear, Blaine turns to face Kurt, "I just, um, I need … I need to get something. I'll be right back. I promise," Blaine adds, eyes opening wide in a gesture of loving reassurance, solid honesty.

As soon as Kurt nods, swallowing hard around the feeling of doubt, Blaine is out of the room and in the utter silence left behind in the kitchen Kurt can hear him take the steps upstairs, two at a time, Kurt assumes to _'… our bedroom?'_

Carole sees Kurt fighting with himself to not run after Blaine as soon as he is out of his sight, so she steps over and takes him in her arms, "Shhh, shh. Sweetheart, let him go. You have to trust him. For both of you. He promised. You trust him, right? You trust him not to make empty promises, yes?" She feels Kurt wordlessly nod into her chest. "He will be right back. You'll see." _'He has to be,' _she adds to herself, fearing what any other outcome to this could do to both her boys.

Kurt closes his eyes, hardly dares to breathe as he listens carefully for every single sound in the house.

If he looks as bad as he feels right now, Kurt knows he must look like death warmed over _'… more than once ... or twice.'_

As he finally hears footsteps making their way back downstairs he has already convinced himself almost completely that he will hear the front door open and close in a minute's time, and then _'…nothing,'_ Blaine gone again, maybe for good.

It is Kurt's biggest fear right now, has been for weeks, that one day Blaine will just disappear altogether and _'… I will never see him again.'_

Kurt's every muscle is aching and itching with tension, Kurt about to break into a run, not about to let Blaine shake him again, _'… not again,'_ like he had not been able to prevent from happening only such a short while ago.

Kurt stands frozen in Carole's arms as the clearly audible steps on the stairs stop …, and feet, Blaine's socked feet, return to the ground floor of the Hummels' home, disappear out of Kurt's earshot, sound too soft to ever really be heard. Kurt's heart is hammering wildly and his eyes are fixed on the kitchen entrance, his thought a single one, _'Blaine, please!'_

Blaine turning the corner back into the kitchen almost drops what he is holding tightly in his arms at the sight of Kurt so much paler than only minutes ago.

Blaine quickly walks over and eases Kurt from Carole's into his own arms, only at touch notices, Kurt is trembling. "It's okay. It's okay. I am sorry you had to worry."

Tears hit Blaine's shirt at the shoulder as Kurt buries himself in his boyfriend's arms, taking several deep shuddering breaths.

Carole moves back over to Burt, laces their fingers as she lets out a deep, shuddering breath, tense with the knowledge her husband shares, _'All this is almost as hard on Kurt as it is on Blaine.' _It might be different if Kurt had not been through so much himself already, but as it is, _'... they both know fear and pain far too well.'_

After a moment's more time, of simply holding Kurt close with his one free arm, Blaine allows his free hand to find its way down Kurt's arm to lace their fingers thoroughly, then begins to gently guide him over to the kitchen table, crayon box and bags both still resting on it.

Before they reach the table the boys hear Carole's voice, "Sweety, Blaine? Do you want Burt and me to leave?"

It is an honest question – inquiring, not demanding.

Burt adds, "And if you want us to stay we can all go into the living room, get some warm blankets out on our way, and get more, um, … comfortable? It's all your choice, Blaine, Kid, okay?"

Burt is relieved to find Blaine nodding. "Thank you." It is said in a voice so small it breaks Burt's heart, Burt unable to help the feeling that it is _'…it is like Blaine has never before even been offered any choices, not even with personal stuff like this.'_

There is a brief silence before Blaine clears his throat carefully, hesitantly, and replies, "I …, I'd love for you, both of you, to stay with us. Please?"

The way Blaine's voice almost breaks, uttering the plea for comfort, has Carole quickly trying to assure, "That's perfectly fine, Sweety."

Carole walks over to check on the cookies, sees they are as good as done, turns of the oven and takes the cookies out, placing the lasagna back in, to keep it warm for a while longer. She turns smiling to the boys, "Now we have all the time in the world. Lasagna is the perfect dish to reheat anyway. Lets go get comfortable."

Carole, before she makes her way out of the kitchen, pulls out a small plate and places four cookies on it, adds four glasses and a jug of juice, taken from the fridge, to the tray, "Let's have dessert first today, shall we?"

As Burt had suggested, they do stop by the big cabinet in the hall, on their way to the living room – take out some extra warm blankets, and even some additional pillows, to sink into comfortably on the two big couches in the living room.

Carole goes ahead with the tray, and as the boys and Burt join her in the living room, she already stands waiting for them, tray safely placed on the coffee table.

Burt insists on propping up the pillows for the boys, as Carole is busying herself with the other couch.

So Kurt and Blaine simply stand for a moment, holding hands tightly, and Kurt gets his first closer look at the paper notebook Blaine has been holding pressed against his chest all along.

Kurt can see it is a rather big, old, used but well loved and cared for object - treasured, clearly.

Only now Kurt even notices all the extra papers placed inside carefully, lightly standing out over the edges in some places, notices how very far the binding is stretched by this very act, has been stretched like this over a very long time, clearly.

Sitting down is not as easy as usual, Blaine not physically capable of letting go of the book clutched tightly still with his left arm to his chest.

So Kurt sits down first in between pillows and Blaine settles into Kurt's arms slowly, careful, almost as if he is afraid to break something in the process, but maybe not this process at all, but with what he knows is about, at least likely, to follow.

This is hard for Blaine- new too. Never before has he shared any one part of this, with anyone.

His breaths stutter for a moment after settling down, and his heart beats, hammers, almost painfully against the book still pressed to his chest.

Kurt holds back words, meaningless with the way Blaine is feeling right now, Kurt knows. So instead he tries to offer Blaine hold in his arms Blaine can choose to reject or take, not like words that too often invade our minds before we even have had any kind of choice to accept or reject all they hold, all they can bring.

"This is hahard," Blaine starts …

It had been days, just yesterday, it seems, really, it has been weeks by now, weeks since Blaine has been anywhere but at the Hummels', and at Dalton, except for that one doctor's appointment for the whole family.

And so, even with the episodes recurring, for the largest part it have been weeks of quiet, of calm. It is the first time in Blaine's life that he has been able to be and breathe, has not been asked - not made to be - to pretend to be someone else, someone others find at least tolerable.

Maybe it is especially the fact that even his episodes have been embraced as part of him by these loving people, that has him longing to open up to them and himself as determinedly as he has never wanted before. And who would want to, what child can bring itself to face, all alone, monsters you know are out to swallow you whole.

But Blaine now knows, truly believes it to be true for the very first time in his life, without any second guessing, _'I am not alone with those monsters anymore.'_

When he had met Kurt there had not been many defenses left, and Blaine cannot shake the feeling that if there had not been Kurt, finding a place in his life so seemingly effortlessly, there would not have been many more days left for him at all.

He had had plans, weeks before he had met Kurt for the first time.

Then again he had had plans many times before, had foregone them every time, as every single day he had meant to be his last hurting had approached … and passed him by.

There is always a sunrise, a sunset - has always been - to Blaine, however, some days seemed to begin in the twilight of dusk, the days when his body begged him to hide away, those days when the sun spend no warmth and the sunlight, no matter how gentle through a lining of clouds, felt nothing but unforgiving and hard, burning past his skin.

Winter had always been a time for Blaine he could breathe easier.

The darkest nights had been the time he had in the orange glow of lamps dared, easiest, to get out one of his most prized possessions, it has been a long time since he has last seen it in clear daylight – the book of paper and colors.

Some people say happiness smells like still raindusted air after a heavy April shower, happiness tastes like a cool fresh glass of lemonade, to Blaine – even if he cannot remember anymore ever having truly felt it deeply, down to his bones – the idea of happiness alone has always remained something colorful and bright to him, a swirl of colors he longs to not only see in his drawings anymore, one day, but be able to feel in all of his life.

Kurt just showing up at Dalton like that, right in front of him and so clearly out of place, out of his comfort zone too, had been the most beautiful thing to Blaine ever, that splash of color he had been so desperate to find outside the edges of the pages he is clutching so tightly right now. "It was the first day I really smiled again, … in forever," Blaine whispers to Kurt. "The day we met."

"Me too," he hears Kurt humming back.

Then, a moment later, Blaine finally pulls back a little way from Kurt's chest, stays in his arms still and looks up into Kurt's eyes first, then down at his own arm's content.

Kurt understands following Blaine's gaze, understands Blaine needs him to guide him through this, eyes screaming at him as they meet once again, _'I cannot do this alone, I need you. I need us!'_

The book is somewhat tattered simply by age.

There are not just additional pages placed into it, some pages – once part of the book's very essence – are sticking out on the side in a way that tells Kurt they once were but are no longer connected to the spine holding the majority of the pages together still as the book Blaine so clearly treasures more than anything Kurt has Blaine ever seen hold. Of course Kurt has never watched Blaine this closely when he himself is the one held to the boy's heart, otherwise he would know, with absolute certainty, that there is one thing, a person to be precise, that Blaine holds even dearer.

This book, his book, is something Blaine needs, a crutch. Kurt, so full of love, is so much more than that to his boyfriend.

"Blaine, do you want to tell us what this book is?" Kurt hums gently as Blaine's eyes continue to ask him to help him find a way to start.

"It was my everything before you," Blaine swallows hard before he can talk on, hyper aware Burt and Carole are still very much here with them, and although he wants them here, it does not make things easier exactly, "it kept me sane before you. But it could never keep me warm."

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><p>AN: Oh gosh I hope you like this. This chapter fought with me a lot.


	21. Pain

**A/N:**

Hi!

THANK YOU first and foremost to the amazing people who make it possible for me to believe in this story by leaving comments and advice in reviews and PMs. It … YOU mean the world to me. Your thoughts are wonderful and amazing.

To **Louise815**: Your comment makes me smile so much every time I read it, you have no idea. Well now you do, I hope:)

To **OnceUponATimeTheEnd**: I hope this chapter begins to answer this question of yours and that you love my idea as stupidly much as I know I do.

To **mynamjo**: I dearly hope you consider this, what I came up with worth waiting for and of course worth your time reading.

To **hma1010**: Thank you so, so, much for letting me know that my story is captivating enough to have you read it all and that you want to read more even. It is just so amazing to know, because I always cannot help but worry that I fall of track at some point and my story grows into a fractured, unreadable mess. Thank you for allowing me to think otherwise.

To **Rory46**: So sorry I haven't gotten back to you further about the betaing. I promise I will one day. At the moment I am just so busy I try to spend my every free minute on writing itself. I hope you understand. Thank you for the lovely review. I hope every single chapter to come will slowly unravel the mysteries created and I hope you like my pacing. It would feel so unnatural for it to be all blurted out there all at once. But I promise I have a plan, and the answers and you will get them.

To **pionaskateboard**: Just … thank you once again. You know how much I love and appreciate your insights into my writing, and my brain, more often than not. How can you see things about those going-ons in there from the other side of the planet that I can't? :) I so haven't forgotten about our messaging, I am sadly just too busy. I promise I will get back to you though, eventually.

To **GothicGold**: Here you go, the next chapter. I hope it is what you hoped for. I loved writing it. And I cried too. But that is a good sign, usually.

To **Becky**: You are SOOOO sweet:) Thank you. I love your review so so much. It is immensely uplifting to hear that you care so much for this story. It allows me to hope that I haven't messed it up yet and hopefully won't in all the many more chapters to come, and that is such an important hope to have while writing, and sometimes impossible to hold on to all alone. I need to grow more confident, I think.

To **butterflyrain23**: :) Your username still makes me smile so much. It is so good to hear I am not alone with my doubts and fears, it is sometimes far too easy to feel nothing but utterly down about oneself. Thank you for making me smile.

To **intensewhatever**: I love it so much too, the moment when Carole tries so hard to be all she can and all Kurt needs. She is just amazing. I love her. She is so so wonderful. As are you.

To **annkum**: I think, yeah, Blaine needed to learn that trust can be a good thing, not just something that makes you vulnerable to a point that allows you to do nothing but bare the pain others aim to inflict. Blaine has always been feeling crushed under the weight of expectations, positive and negative. That's why closeness gets too much for him so easily, and he does not know how to deal. I am still curious about your question, why Blaine has not been forced into therapy by the Hummels. I had never seen it as a valid option writing, and I don't think it is in life. He needs to be allowed to make his own way in recovery. Also, in this story so far only about three weeks have passed ever since they found out anything. That is why I asked about the time frame in your own story earlier this week. It takes some time for your Blaine to go into therapy, doesn't it? And I know he is forced in your story, but the situations differ wildly anyway I think in both our writing. Hope to hear from you about this. I'd love to hear your opinion.

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 21: Pain<strong>

Without another word Blaine pulls back the blanket, covering him and Kurt, and slides out of Kurt's arms and onto the floor. He comes to sit on his knees in front of the coffee table a moment later, places the book on it, with great care, and opens it to a seemingly random page.

Kurt cannot help but think that there is nothing random at all about this act, not to Blaine, who displays, if not confidence then, certainty in every single of these movements. In fact it is the most certain Kurt or his parents have seen Blaine in a quite long seeming while.

Blaine, as soon as the book lies opened on the table, begins to trace the outlines of the picture before him, bright in colors, with his fingertips.

Kurt watches on, for a moment, as Blaine's breathing evens out. It is almost like the rhythmic movements of his fingers are putting him into a trance.

Carole and Burt watch on, concerned, as Blaine just sits, eyes having drifted closed soon after his hand's movement had begun.

His hand in the minutes to come never stops moving on the paper, filled to the brim with a bright swirl of colors amidst a sea of blue.

Carole finds herself reminded of _'… that painting of the night sky, Van Gogh did, … only with far less stars.' _Carole has loved this very painting for decades now, ever since she had first seen it one day, at school, in art class. And as back then, that time she had to take a test, she now cannot for the life of her remember its name, _' … or whether it has one at all.' _And briefly she wonders if that is what it has been like for Blaine all this time, only magnified a thousand times in intensity. _'That feeling, that pain of just … not quite remembering. But finding reminders EVERYWHERE.'_ And she knows she would have nightmares too, every night, if wherever she looked there was a reminder of _' … something dark … painful.' _

You cannot fear what you don't know. But what we once had a glimpse of - no matter how brief, no matter conscious to what degree - we foolish humans, with minds too small and too big all at once, can hardly ever forget again.

The colors on the paper under Blaine's fingertips are soft but vibrant blues and muted yellows, mixed in with a little white and green, calming but _'… cold too,' _Burt thinks.

"I could never take many things with me when I … when …," Blaine's breathing, changes within seconds into a chopped, painful sounding mess, "… wheneheehhver … I hhad to … to … hihyhhide."

"Hide?" Kurt asks, voice much smaller than he wishes it to be - speaking clearly, all too clearly, of Kurt's own fear for Blaine's safety, health …happiness, present and past.

Blaine's movements of fingertips on paper, still tracing the swirls of color, begin to stutter as he rings for a deep breath and lets out the words in a tiny sound, "Kurt? I'm so cold."

It only takes two seconds for Kurt to grab the blanket. And scooting up behind Blaine, he carefully wraps himself around Blaine, inviting him to lean back into his warmth, and then the blanket around both of them.

As Blaine, after a while longer, allows himself to sink deeper into the loving touches of his boyfriend, Blaine takes the book with him off the coffee table. It comes to rest on Blaine's knees. The book still open, his hand is now splayed all over the picture covering both of the open pages completely. Not a single corner of the paper has been left blank, like Blaine at the time of drawing this had been trying to fill every possible emptiness.

Blaine's other hand having intertwined under the blanket with Kurt's hand, they are resting with light pressure over Blaine's chest's center.

Kurt is so glad Blaine has moved their hands there, enabling him to keep watch over Blaine's breathing more securely.

Blaine's eyes are fixed on the painting again when he feels the first tears coming, whispering, "I'm still so cold."

Kurt's pleading eyes find Burt's then Carole's, asking _'What can I do? I don't know what to do!'_

Carole is the first to move, careful with every move she makes closer to them, trying hard not to startle Blaine … or Kurt.

As she kneels in front of them, hand coming to rest gently against Blaine's forehead, Blaine freezes for the moment of touch, then chokes out a heavy breath and "I think I'm going to be sick."

At Blaine's words Carole quickly motions for Burt to hand her the trashcan standing an arm's length away from him on one side of the coffee table.

The book glides to the floor.

Blaine takes a firm hold of the trashcan, clutches onto it tightly, as he empties the contents of his stomach into it.

Carole, briefly having left comes back with a warm moist washcloth, gently traces it over Blaine's mouth, who winces at the caring motion directed at him.

He is still not used at being touched with such care and fondness by anyone but Kurt. And it has his stomach churning again. But there is nothing left to throw up.

Whimpering he buries his shaking form, already clutching the book again tightly to his body, deep in Kurt's chest, who holds him securely.

"Kurt, Sweetheart, do you think you can get him to the bathroom so he can rinse out his mouth a little," Carole asks carefully, knowing the taste must feel horrible, _'He cannot fall asleep like this.'_

Kurt helps out a lot, keeping Blaine on his feet, helping him so he does not have to leave the book behind, not that Blaine could let go of either Kurt or the object in his arms. It is only instinct, habit, forged over years, that has him reaching for the book first, not love like he feels for Kurt.

When, after the trip to the bathroom, they are back in the living room, back in the soft comfort of pillows and blankets on the couch, Blaine is already half asleep from exhaustion as he begins to more mumble than talk. "I hate hiding. I am a coward. I always run, I did always hide whenever I could get away. I would hear them for hours, downstairs, knocking around bottles, drinking. And then the sounds would stop and I never knew if they had passed out drinking, … or … or were coming for me. I never knew until I heard nothing more, or, … or … them stumbling up the stairs, laughing and joking about how pathetic I was. They didn't care, they never cared that I was scared, that I … I didn't want to be there. I didn't know what to do. I didn't … I didn't know."

Kurt wants to cry and scream … shout, _'WHO?' _

But he gets nothing over his lips. And all he gets from Blaine before he falls into a deep sleep in Kurt's arms, right here on the couch, is, "I want to hate him, Why can't I hate him? … both of them."

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><p>AN: The picture by Van Gogh that I mention in here is called 'Starry Night', in case you want to google it. If you PM me or let me know in a review if you would like to read the amazing interpretation of it I found online, I will gladly post it with the next chapter's author's note, or send it to you. I did not realize HOW well it really fits my story until I read about it. I simply love this painting, all of Van Gogh's work really, and it seemed so right from the first moment I thought of using it. I hope you felt that way too reading this chapter.


	22. Me in Pieces

**A/N:**

To My Reviewers and people who PM with me and such:

LOVE, first and foremost, TONS of love. You don't even know how humongously much you do for my sanity.

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><p>To <strong>pionaskateboard<strong> : You, my dear, are fabtastic! (Wow, a typo that for once even makes sense:) Your words encourage me so much, every single time, to strive and try harder, think more. I so love you for that. For being you.

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><p>To <strong>laozi <strong>: Oh I know how you feel. It breaks my heart every time this story leads Blaine to be anywhere else than wrapped up safely in Kurt's arms. And thank you so much for wishing me all the best for my studies. It is sometimes so hard to be courageous in studying. It can be a scary thing, to me at least.

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><p>To <strong>Rory46<strong>: Oh wow, did you just compare my skills to Van Gogh's? It makes me smile so much. I hope to one day be as brilliant with words as he was with a paintbrush. Thank you for such amazingly kind words.

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><p>To <strong>lizzie<strong>: Thank you! I know, I want to bring them all any happiness possible too. It will be a long painful road there, but I hope with all my heart together they will make it there. So happy you are sticking around to be with me on that journey, it's not an easy one, but so worth taking I dearly hope. Thank you for your wonderful review!

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><p>To <strong>hma1010 <strong>: It is great to hear you are excited for more. Any writer would be grateful to hear that I think. Thank you.

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><p>To <strong>mynamjo<strong>: The book is so important to Blaine. I am so very happy to hear you can sense that while reading. That's just so amazing! Wow, I …, your amount of love for my interpretations of these characters is so encouraging, you have no idea. THANK YOU!

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><p>To <strong>Louise815<strong>: Thank you for letting me know your feels about the chapter. It is all so complicated. You will, in this chapter, get an answer to a question you might have asked yourself from the very beginning of this story. Unraveling all and answering everything … lets just say it will be a journey. Hope you will want to stick around. For now I am afraid answers will too mean new questions. I hope you'll rather love than mind that.

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><p>To <strong>Lauren2012 <strong>aka** snowangellms**: Your review was wicked awesome. Gave me so very much to think about. I love it!

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><p>To <strong>Guest X<strong>: Thank you for both your reviews:) I love answering reviews, it gets me thinking, you get me thinking and planning and wanting to write more and more. I adore you for every single word you write. I would love to hear more about what techniques they are that catch your attention reading because as the one writing it it gets so hard to see your work clearly. Thank you for helping me become a better writer with every single review of yours. I will with pleasure keep replying. Xo M

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><p>To <strong>intensewhatever<strong>: I bet you will LOVE this new chapter. Please tell me this, the answer you get in here, is an answer you have been waiting for? As always, so great to find a review from you in my inbox:)

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><p>To <strong>musicbeyondmagic<strong>: Thank you! You are so sweet. I am so so happy to hear the story still means so much to you after reading the newest chapter. It makes all of my days:) not just one!

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><p>To <strong>harleygirl81<strong>: Thank you so much for challenging me to think more. I really love that. I can't wait to hear more questions you might have as the story progresses. Your message was amazing. Thank you! xo M

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><p>To <strong>Addie117<strong>: My Love, I would dedicate this chapter to you, but it is such a sad one, and you deserve something so much happier. Don't get down on yourself. I love you! I love us.

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 22: Me in Pieces<strong>

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><p>Holding Blaine Kurt lies awake, his arms growing tired far too quickly with how tense he is.<p>

The boy looking so painfully tiny, drawn into himself in Kurt's arms, is still fast asleep when Carole comes back to the living room from dinner with Burt and asks Kurt to please come eat something as well.

"No, I can't," Kurt replies decidedly, voice strained with tension.

Kurt, upset himself deeply, misses how tired and thin Carole's voice truly sounds, of course Carole doing everything to cover it up as best as she can is not making it easy to see, speaking slowly in a soothing, low, but heartened, voice, "Sweetheart, you need to keep up your strength so that you can keep being here for Blaine."

Kurt still shakes his head, pulling Blaine only closer.

Blaine, in his sleep, almost as if in answer, mumbles something neither Kurt nor Carole can understand.

They watch Blaine carefully as his body settles back into a state of outward calm. Carole and Kurt both worrying about what is going on deep down inside under layers upon layers of fear and pain they both know all too well to be right there, invisible to the eye but having Blaine's nervous system high strung far too often. His fingers keep twitching from time to time where they are resting against the hard surface of the notebook still clutched tightly in one of Blaine's arms. Kurt cannot help the image, _'… like a teddy bear.'_

It takes Carole a moment to snap back out of her own thoughts, _'I wonder how often he has slept like this and woken up with bruises on his arms where the edges of the book end up digging into flesh and muscles.'_ "How about I bring you a plate in here, and I stay and watch Blaine closely while you eat." She can see that Kurt is about to shake his head again so she adds, "You won't even have to get up from the couch. I promise."

Letting out a sigh, all out of arguments and energy, Kurt nods, "Okay."

Carole is already walking back to the kitchen to get the food when she hears, "Thank you."

"Sweetheart, it's fine."

Eating is awkward.

With Blaine still snuggled into his chest Kurt cannot help stopping, again and again, looking for signs of distress every few bites, moving the plate, always getting into his view of Blaine's face, around quite a bit.

"He is fine, Kurt. I promise, he is fast asleep," Carole seeks to sooth kneeling next to where Blaine's head is resting, watching extra closely to sooth Kurt's nerves … and her own.

For Carole it is a strange scene to watch, the combination of Kurt's quick bites, and then long pausing stares at Blaine, who is peacefully and deeply asleep by the looks of him.

As he is done and hands his plate back to Carole, Kurt quickly glances over at the clock. It's almost 9:30 and pitch black outside now. Blaine has been asleep for slightly over two hours already.

Carole is still kneeling on the floor next to the couch, empty plate already put to rest on the coffee table, when Kurt asks, "You really think he is okay?" They both know Kurt is not talking about tonight alone.

'_No, I don't.' _"I think he feels safe with you in a way he has not in a very long time, maybe ever. And … I think we need to build on that. Build on that so he can feel safe in this family, with all of us."

Kurt, looking at Blaine, whispers to Carole what he has such a hard time admitting all by himself, "I'm scared."

"We all are, Sweety."

"But what if I cannot handle what happened to him? What if he trusts me with what they did, and I don't know what to say … or do? What if I can't help him, Mom?" And Kurt is crying now, furiously wiping away the ever coming new tears before they spill all over his chest, Blaine's face. _'No, no, no, no, no. I can't wake him up with my crying.' _

Carole is by his side, kneeling at the back of the couch a moment later, running her hand soothingly through his hair. "It's okay, Kurt. It's a good thing to feel that way. I know it might not seem like it right now, but it really is. Because it has you listening more carefully and looking closer for what Blaine really needs. We have to trust him to tell us when he needs more than what we have given so far …, more than what we can give," she adds hesitantly, not wanting to scare Kurt. "But right now I think he most of all needs a place to be allowed to just be. And you are already so much more than that, Kurt. You are giving him so much more than that. You love him. That is something so very special, so brave and special. You keep being yourself with him, don't pretend either to be alright when you are not, no matter in how tiny a part. He trusts you to be honest with him always. It is such a big part of why he loves you so much from what I've seen. You are honest but you don't judge him. You are so good for him. And I know, … I can see he is good for you too. Just as he is. You love him."

The tears having died down while Carole had kept on talking, Kurt sniffles heavily a couple of times more, then gives up wiping away the last stray tears and snuggles himself closer to Blaine again.

Eight minutes pass then he too is asleep and Carole, eventually, after a while more, can stop herself from staying right here on the floor next to the two boys sleeping.

Trying to be honest and not discouraging at the same time with Kurt is exhausting in so many ways.

Carole's own emotions are still a tangled mess when she walks back into the kitchen, empty plate quickly taken out of her hand by Burt and dropped into the sink half filled with soapy hot water.

Before she can take another step back to her seat at the table, her plate of food still there, untouched, Carole is enveloped in one of her husband's extra warm hugs.

"I had no idea how much I needed this," she says softly, leaning into her husband's embrace completely, letting go for once today.

"You want to stay with them tonight, don't you?" Burt had been able to read it on his wife's face as soon as she had reentered the kitchen.

She nods into his shoulder, "Yes."

"You eat and get ready for bed, and I go make up the other couch for you in the living room. Sounds good?"

"Sounds great," Carole hums back as her husband places a kiss to her forehead.

Sitting alone in the quiet kitchen a moment later, with her now reheated plate of food again in front of her, Carole begins to tentatively take the first couple of bites.

She had tried before but in the end Burt had had to watch her just stare at her food for almost fifteen minutes before slipping out of her seat and going back into the living room to talk to Kurt about keeping up his strength. Unable to clear her own mind she had given in to her instincts to make sure Kurt would not neglect himself _' … as preoccupied as he must be.'_

Carole is all too aware it is not just herself and Burt waiting for answers to their fears, aware that they are not the only ones scared to death Blaine's answers will leave them nothing but helpless – and Blaine, leave Blaine feeling alone, abandoned all over. _'One chance to get it right,' _Carole fears most of all that there will be only one chance once Blaine decides to try and do all he can to let them in. Trusting others with your very core, confused and twisted as it is, that is _'… it's the hardest thing … ever.'_

She had been glad to see Kurt, even if hesitant, clearly hungry and once he had started willing to finish his meal.

Carole herself has to now force down every single bite. What Blaine had said _'…what Blaine hasn't said … yet …,' _heavy on her mind.

The dinner follows a quick shower, well, intended to be quick. The hot water cascading over her skin turns out to be too tempting to not linger, forget about the world at least for a little while and just enjoy the cold being driven away inside and out … for that little while.

Pajamas on, teeth brushed and face feeling comfortable, freshly moisturized in just the right way – the way Kurt taught her, _'… the first thing he taught me when we moved in together,'_- Carole reenters the living room.

"Burt?"

"Come here."

"I thought …."

But Burt sitting on the couch in his own pajamas cuts in, "… I would give up the chance to cuddle extra closely tonight?"

"But your back," Carole starts once more.

"Will be alright."

"You sure?" Carole asks, stepping closer, as Burt begins to lie himself down on the couch.

"Yes I'm sure I want to cuddle."

"Not what I …."

"Shhhhh. Hon, come on, give your mind a break," Burt replies softly, pulling Carole down beside him.

"Okay."

"Okay."

That is how the night seems to start out at least …, okay.

It is dark, that is all Carole knows when her eyes shoot open, waken by a panting sound, coming from only feet away.

She turns out of Burt's arms quickly and sits up, looking over at the other couch, lying opposite her in the dark.

All she can see in the pitch black room, a new moon standing dark in the sky, is a boy kneeling on the floor in front of the opposite couch, chest heaving violently, shoulders shaking, but still trying not to make a sound even though _'… even though he is clearly in pain.'_

Carole hates how much it reminds her of the way Kurt had looked kneeling trembling on the hardwood floor of the run down cabin in the woods _'… aching to hold Blaine.'_

The hair, curls, sticking out in all places, are the only give away it is not Kurt at all, "Blaine, Sweetheart."

"I don't …, I need ..., can … can we …, I need …." His tongue refuses to follow his thoughts, twisted, sense and sorrow staying buried inside him alike as he lets out a helpless whimper. Carole will never know he is fighting not to scream his heart out.

Carole is kneeling by his side within seconds, on her way almost hits her knee hurrying around the coffee table.

As she tries to reach out he flinches too wildly, moving back ,… away. _'No, no, Blaine, Sweatheart, it's only me,'_ she does not dare say it out loud, afraid to startle Blaine further.

Blaine almost hits Kurt, still fast asleep with exhaustion, right into his face with arms scrambling for hold … somewhere.

Mere moments later Carole's thoughts spill over her tongue, "Blaine, Sweety, it's only me. Carole."

Hands still seemingly searching on the soft surface of the couch for hold find the notebook Blaine had lost touch with as the trembling had grown stronger and stronger, panic beginning to build. "I know, but …."

"Yes?"

"All I can see is her."

"Her?"

"I can't …," Blaine says, shaking his head and fingers gripping the book tighter, unable to look anywhere else.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you hungry?"

"What?" he asks his eyes suddenly glued to her. It is not a question Blaine had expected. There is a long list, formed at the back of his mind, ever since his first night here, of things he half expects, fully fears, to be asked one of these days.

"Are you hungry?" Carole repeats softly.

Amidst all of this chaos inside him it is hard sometimes, most of the time actually, for Blaine to remember that there is such a thing as a daily life to be lived, that he deserves to take good care of himself and _even _to be taken care of. No one he remembers before Kurt had ever treated him in a way that allowed him to think for even just a moment he would, could ever, deserve such a thing, …kindness, love. He had heard of them sure, in fairytales and movies, children's stories. He cannot remember ever having felt them, before Kurt.

"Let's go to the kitchen and eat something," Carole tries again. "You cooked for us and then you didn't even have dinner last night, you must be starving."

Carole has always been good at, has had a lot of practice as Finn's mom, in spending focus and calm. With Finn clumsy _and_ athletic - running around almost as soon as he could walk, but falling over all the time too, especially with growth spurts coming so fast - for years Finn had come home from kindergarten and school, it seemed almost every other day, with a new bruise, scraped knee or elbow. Yes, Carole definitely is practiced in soothing pain out of a child's mind, at least for a short while, _'… maybe, hopefully, that will be enough to get through to him.'_

Carole knows how to take focus of pain in many ways. But a surprise change of topic, baffling the one in pain into a halt, she has found to often still be the most productive, not just most basic, method.

"I don't …," Blaine tries to lie, well, thinks about it, tries lying out, on himself, _'I am not hungry.'_ But Carole has been nothing but kind and patient and _' … and loving,' _and he has no idea how to deal with that, hates that it makes him afraid.

Blaine is sure of one thing though, as with Kurt, he does not want to lie anymore to Carole, does not want to pretend, even if something deep inside him still too often eggs him on to do exactly that.

The words are hard to form, Blaine still trying to hold the fear back he knows should not be attached to such simple words. _'How can this scare me so much? Just say it. Say it, Blaine. Tell her she reminds you of ….'_ But what comes out is a last attempt at a diversion and then another frenzy, "I might throw up again. Oh gosh, I threw up. Did I throw up all over you? Oh gosh, I did, didn't I?"

"No, Blaine. You didn't. And even if you had, you don't have to apologize for being sick, not ever."

Blaine's gaze drifts back to Kurt's sleeping form, looking for love, for courage he cannot find in himself right now.

"Sweetheart, you hear me?" Carole tries gently.

"Yeah," he murmurs absentmindedly, _'For Kurt, for us,'_ "Yes. Can we …, should we go to the kitchen now? I don't want to wake him." _'I'm doing enough to you already. I don't want to hurt you, Kurt, Love, not ever again. I don't want to hurt us.'_

Carole nods her agreement, whispers a quiet, "Yes." Without another word, tears trickling silently down Blaine's face, the notebook fully wrapped in his arms again, they make their way into the kitchen, Blaine a couple of feet ahead of Carole.

Blaine gingerly sits down on one of the kitchen chairs, light shiver running through his body. He is surprised to be wrapped in a blanket a moment later.

"I brought it. Thought you might need some extra warmth," _'… in many ways. I'll do all I can, Sweety. All I can.'_

"Thank you," Blaine whispers, hesitantly placing the notebook in front of him on the kitchen table, then buries his body deeper in the soft fabric, hands fisted into it, holding it together.

"Tea?" Carole asks, eyes holding softly Blaine's gaze still glistening, although he has stopped crying.

Blaine only brings out a shaky nod and another, whispered, "Thank you."

Carole moves quietly and confident around the room. And a quiet, surprisingly void of tension, settles around them with ease. It is only broken as Carole eventually places a big mug of sweet, fresh honeybush tea in front of each of them, before settling down on the chair opposite Blaine, kitchen table between them for the comfort zone Carole suspects Blaine needs today.

Blaine has watched her all the while, finding to himself inexplicable comfort in watching such a simple act as making tea being performed with such care and calm. It is not unusual in any way, for millions of people all around the world. It is nothing remotely close to usual … to Blaine – quiet, comfort, warmth.

Minutes pass with them watching steam rise from the cups, drawing pictures warm and fleeting into the colder air of the house - deeply immersed into one of the darkest nights of the moon cycle. They are like warmer clouds lifting and shifting those settled, more lodged, far into the furthest corners of Blaine's mind.

Eventually, after Blaine has taken his first few sips, cradling the mug with one hand now, the other still holding the blanket together, Carole does ask something else, something more. "What was it about?"

"What?" Blaine replies, voice small and eyes finding the table.

"Whatever woke you."

"Oh. I …, it was nothing."

And Carole will never know how Blaine does that, go from near panic attack to _'… it isn't calm. It's something else altogether,' _something scary, something just _'… just wrong, so frighteningly wrong.'_ And she hates that the only explanation she can think of for Blaine being so good at this, is practice. "Blaine." It is not a question, or an inquiry, just a soft reminder she is here.

He lets out a ragged breath and a stuttering exhale before he begins to shift on the chair like something is scratching at him from the inside all of a sudden, until the word, the thought, is out, "You."

Carole looks utterly dumfounded. "As in …, me?"

"Yes," the frown on Blaine's face from under which he peeks up at Carole, chin tugged to his chest, is filled with doubt and confusion of his own, fear that comes with those emotions all too quick.

Blaine's hands now both curl tightly around the mug, eyes are fixed on the closed notebook again, _'… as if Blaine is looking right through the cover, eyes flicking like they are reading a page, studying another drawing, a memory?' _Blaine does not even move when the blanket, warmth, no longer held, slides of his shoulders to the floor.

"I scare you?" Carole brings out shaken, swallowing hard. She had not ever expected this.

"Whenever …," Blaine chokes out wet sounds, sounds Carole by now, after weeks, knows to read as the messengers of tears that they are. She watches as he takes a deep half-choked breath and closes his eyes, searching inside for the words, the heat of the mug in his hands providing the outward focus not to get lost in the dark now shrouding his senses. "Whenever you are so kind, when … when you kneeled down next to me like that, on the living room floor, all I could see was her kneeling with me, and there is ahhlways that pain when I remember her, that …. So much pain." Blaine shakes his head wildly now, hands coming up, instantly missing the warm surface of the cup, and beginning to shake before he buries them deeply in his curls. "My … my arms hurt, so much."

"Right now? Let me see, please?"

Blaine shakes his head even more vigorously, drowning in the desperation to make himself understood in a way he has never wanted it before with anyone but Kurt. "When I re … rememmber her, there is always that pain, sohh, soh much of it, and, and I don't even remember her face, not really, her eyes sometimes and just … just being there with her. I think it was the last time we were together, she smiled at me like you do when … when you want to hug me and make everything better. But there is that pain …," he chokes out the last words, almost chokes on them, "… I can't forget. And I don't understand. Did she … did she do this to me?" Blaine nothing short of rips open his eyes and holding out his arms stares at them. "I've tried to make them go away."

"It was me, in your dream. You saw me instead of her. Your mom?"

Blaine nods, tears flowing over finally, and then there is no stopping them for the rest of all this.

"That day in your car, when … when we drove back from the PFLAG meeting and KeKKurt told you, aabout …," Blaine swallows hard unable to repeat what he still hates the world for allowing to happen to Kurt after everything, _'… everything he had already been through.' _

"Karofsky."

Blaine's shaking turns into a nodding motion within a couple of moves, his hands coming to rest on his knees, clutching the sweatpants he is wearing tightly at first touch. "When … when you came into the backseat and held Kurt so tight, and he was crying so hard and you where just … just there, holding him … so close …." Blaine tries to take a deep breath, chokes it half back out a mere second later. He has to fight to take a couple more short stuttering breaths before he can talk on, "I … I hadn't rerememmbered … I had pushed it allhh away … for so longh. And that nighht, Kurt in so much pain andhh …. I've never before remembered _that _much. They were nightmares, just nightmares, not memories." His eyes, searching out Carole's now, are already begging, red and swollen from all the crying, and Carole fears she knows what Blaine is about to ask of her," Please. Can we, … can we just pretend they are, nightmares, nothing else. A bad horror movie I made up in my head. Please? I can't do this. I've tried sohh hhard to make it all go away, and it won't … it won't. If … if I …, what if the monsters never leave again when … when I let them in? What if they never leave again? I can't do this. I've tried to make it all go away. It didn't work. It never worked. Don't make me do this."

"No one, Blaine, no one here will make you do anything. I promise. Now, Blaine, what have you tried?" Carole had not meant to push earlier, but he keeps saying it, and maybe, just maybe, she is reading it right and it really means he is desperate to say more, desperate for her to ask so he can try and explain it to her, to himself.

"I've tried to make them go away, I couldn't look at them anymore" and with those words Blaine begins, without even noticing himself, to scratch with his right hands fingernails over his left forearm, rubbing his right forearm again and again against his upper thigh too in the motion.

_'The layers of scarring the doctor had talked about, he tried to cover the first one up with ... with a second?,'_ "Y…."But before she can ask anything, say anything, Blaine is talking on.

"Cutting helped with the headaches."

"Headaches?" Carole tries carefully. And it seems to be the right question to ask, Blaine's scratching at his arms calming down a little and his words clearer again.

"I …, I used to get really bad headaches. When I turned eleven they started, I think. I dohhn't remember having them before. But maybe I'm still just pushing those memories away too. I didn't understand where they were coming from then. But when I didn't do anything about it, them, … I mean there had beehn, are, nightmares anyway, either way, but they always were so much worse that first year. I didn't know what to do, didn't know what any of it meant. I still don't but …," Blaine breaks of to take a deep breath. "It was hell. But then I turned twelve, and there was this girl in my gym class, Esther Michaels. I had never seen anyone with scars like mine before. But hers weren't old like mine."

Carole has to try her hardest not to start crying as Blaine goes on.

"She …, she helped me. Or … I thought that was what she did, then. And I think she did too, think that. She said it helped her feel better. It hurt. It always hurt, but I wanted to be better. I want to be better," Blaine sobs out the last sentence, crumbling in on himself completely now.

Carole's voice is full of tears not yet shed, when Blaine hears her through the maze of his own thoughts, "Please, can I hold you?"

"I don't know. But … can we try? Please?"

Blaine's eyes are wide and still overflowing with tears as Carole holds his gaze gently and gets up, without another word walks over to Blaine, the boy cowering on his seat now, legs drawn up and arms flung around them as if to hold himself together, forearms, still being moved in a slight rubbing motion along Blaine's legs.

He crumbles into her arms at first touch and they quickly end up sitting on the floor, blanket wrapped around both of them.

Carole listens to Blaine fall asleep in her arms - _'Still hungry,' _she inwardly scolds herself - the boy murmuring over and over "It hurt so much. It all hurt so much. Don't leave me. Don't leave me here."

And the last part is new, and scary, and _'We will figure that out together too,' _Carole silently promises herself and the boy in her embrace, tightening her arms around him.

Carole does not fall asleep again. Holds out for someone to find them here, curled against the wall in the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket.

It is not comfortable.

'_It is what Blaine needs.'_

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><p>AN: The next chapter will hopefully be short and cuddly. I feel like I need that now. It kills me to leave them like this.

So yes, an OC in this, … Esther. Would love to hear your feels about her! I know it is a really short appearance.

This is definitely the longest thing I have written in a while, and I am sorry to say, there might be no updates for quite some time. But you guys get new Glee episodes while I am away turning the National Writers' Month (November) into my very own personal academic writers' month, work is not just calling but posiitvely screaming for me now. I will be back though as soon as I can. I promise. Regrettably that might be quite a while away.

I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter.

Thank you so much for reading.


	23. Let me hold you'

A/N:

I did it:) !

A new chapter.

A HUGE THANK YOU to **pionaskateboard.** Without you I could not possibly have written this chapter at this point in time. You helped me so much to clear my mind. I love us talking.

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><p>Reviewers, it's that time again:<p>

**To harleygirl81: **I hope this chapter is what you were hoping for. Thank you so much for that amazingly sweet PM you send me after I posted the last chapter, I wanted to reply to it here all along, because it is so closely connected to the story and ... it just feels right:) I love replying to reviewers, and PMs, it helps me think the story through all over and, too, I think, find new energy for writing. You help me becoming a better writer with every review so the least I can do is reply to say: Thank you for your support, you are amazing!

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><p><strong>To Rory46: <strong>I love Carole too, very much. She is so dear to me. I can't see Blaine and Kurt getting through this without her, especially with both of them having lost their moms so early on in life, in one way or another, in this story. She so is a healing presence to both of them, definitely. She just cares so unbelievably much, and so self-lessly.

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><p><strong>To Jayno: <strong>Blaine is …, they are both working through it, slow and painful and … it is hard, no doubt, but they are not alone and that is a great gift, they have love and a place they can feel safe, that is so much really. I often think a lot of people don't understand how much that can already be to someone.

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><p><strong>To Becky: <strong>Thank you for writing a truly amazing review;) It means the world to me that you care so much about the characters and the story and … just, … Blaine will keep healing I promise. He just …, it's so not easy and he needs to allow himself to dig out some painful truths from his past to be able to process all of it and really understand what is holding him back from being able to really be close to anyone without feeling the need to keep getting away again and again.

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><p><strong>To annkum: <strong>Intense is always a great word to read in a review. Thank you so much:) especially when one as a writer remains afraid to come across as overly dramatic instead. That would be real horrible. Thank you for all the encouragement. It helps, truly.

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><p><strong>To hma1010: <strong>I am excited, too, to keep exploring and writing.

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><p><strong>To Addie117: <strong>I love you! IAU

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><p><strong>To musicbeyondmagic: <strong>Thank you so much for reviewing, and responding to my question about Esther, you are actually the only one who did. Carole and Blaine scenes, they are just always so emotional I find. He needs her love so much it is heartbreaking to see. Writing them is heartbreaking too.

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><p><strong>To intensewhatever: <strong>Amazing review, thank you. It made me smile so wide when you used 'intense' :) I love that I could write something you can love! Reading your review I feel like I have really reached the goals I set myself when starting to write that chapter, that means so much. Thank you!

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><p><strong>To mynamjo: <strong>I don't think I could write Carole any other way:) I'm still looking forward to that message about your question in here you wanted to send me. I would love to know if I explained it well enough to you in my message some weeks back. xo M

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>23: 'Let me hold you'<strong>

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><p>Burt is the first to wake up.<p>

Squeezing the sleep driven drowsiness lingering right out of him with one rough grip, it is like a fist tightening around his heart as his eyes first find _'Carole is gone,'_ then, _'…Blaine too!' _

Somewhere out there in the seeming endlessness of the universe there must be someone who could recognize the sound of a mind, Burt's mind, going into overdrive. Here on earth, it only barely registers with even him.

Everything in Burt's mind feels like one big blur until ..., until he registers the dim light filtering through the hallway into the living room.

'_They must be in the kitchen. …, please be in the kitchen.'_

Kurt is still fast asleep on the couch. The light falling around the couch and hitting its back is enough though still to allow Burt to really see his son – curled around the blanket him and Blaine had lain under falling asleep, and a pillow tightly clasped in his arms, face buried in it deep. _'He doesn't even know Blaine is ….'_ Burt shakes the heavy thought off as he gets to his feet.

It feels like a long walk, the few steps it takes Burt to get to the kitchen. He cannot remember having walked this quietly, carefully, almost tiptoeing out of the room, ever since Kurt himself had been a baby, mere weeks old.

In the time after Kurt's mother had just died Burt had never once left Kurt asleep alone, had always waited for Kurt to stir awake in his arms before showing any sign to his son of being awake himself, of pulling away. Often enough, until the age of ten, Kurt had fallen asleep in his father's arms on the spare couch in the office of the tire shop, and not seldom had he taken his father with him into sleep and dreams, some happy, … some not.

Burt cannot help but feel a pang in his chest at leaving Kurt asleep, alone, especially since _'… something must have happened for Blaine to feel the need to be somewhere else …, other, than in Kurt's arms.' _

Standing frowning in the middle of the kitchen floor, Burt freezes as soon as he - after having scanned the kitchen table and counters for his wife and Blaine and finding nothing, no one - turning once more, finds them on the floor, cowering against a wall.

Blaine is still buried deep in Carole's embrace, the blanket still wrapped tightly around them. Both their eyes are closed, _'… but neither's expression is anything close to relaxed,' _Burt cannot help the worrying thought.

"Carole," he whispers, and his wife's eyes instantly fly open, red, swollen and tired from too little sleep and too many tears.

"Burt, Honey."

He is kneeling by Carole's side even before the endearment, spoken with so much sadness it breaks something all over deep inside him, has fully passed her lips. "Carole, Love, what are you …, what are you two doing on the floor?"

"He needed me," is all she brings out past fresh tears as Burt's worried look lingers on her.

"I …, we …," but Burt is far past knowing what to say anymore at all.

He watches quietly as Carole shifts next to Blaine, pulling him impossibly closer still.

And then it is almost too late when Burt realizes his wife, sleep deprived, and exhausted in so much more shattering ways, is about to try and stand up holding, carrying Blaine in her arms. "Love, no …."

Burt catches her, _them_, just as Carole's muscles are about to give in under her own and the weight of the boy still heavily asleep in her arms, unaware of anything going on around him. "I won't leave him here," she half sobs into her husband's chest, so close now.

"Of course you won't. But please, let me help?" Burt asks tenderly.

"What if he wakes up? I don't want … I can't stand seeing him any more hurt, you don't know what he tol…, oh Burt, …," another sob. The night has been long and dark, and crushing …, especially for Carole. And still she is thankful and glad it is her and not Kurt standing broken in this kitchen.

"I can't let you hurt yourself either. Carole, please? Let me take him back to the couch."

They stand a moment, just breathing, then Carole finally nods, legs still shaking too hard to even take a single steady step. The last thing she wants is to injure Blaine in a fall.

Burt carefully shifts Blaine out of Carole's arms into his own.

As Burt takes the first steps away - taking Blaine with him - Carole lets out a shaky breath, her body hit with the cold night air, still lingering in the persistent dark of the early winter morning hours.

Finn will be the one in the morning almost slipping on the forgotten blanket still lying on the kitchen floor.

Carole, after three quick, shaky steps is right there next to Burt, … every slow, quiet step Burt takes carrying a still fast asleep Blaine back into the living room.

Burt's heart aches as he watches the boy in his arms curl in on himself and closer, further into the warmth of the chest he is held against. _'He'd never do this awake.' _And the truth of the thought just … hurts.

Carole watches on as Burt puts Blaine gently down, not next to Kurt but on the opposite couch, the one Burt and Carole themselves had slept on, more and … less, in Carole's case.

Burt looks up at his wife, as he, kneeling next to the couch still, tugs Blaine in tight under the covers, warm and comforting with the slight additional weight of an extra, warm, blanket on top of them – put there originally by Burt last night while Carole had been in the shower, because he knows how easily Carole grows to feel cold at night, even with him right beside her; and he had not known then if she would give in to that either, his request to stay with her. Right now he could not be gladder he had pushed for it.

Blaine steers, for a brief moment, keeps shifting in his sleep for a minute or two, and Carole watches closely, worried, frozen, … freezing too. All energy gone, drained. _'Blaine, Sweetheart, you need rest. Shhh, calm down. Please.'_

Burt, looking up, notices her shaking and her lips moving gingerly but not a single sound coming out. He is back on his feet and by her side with a handful quick steps, pulling Carole deep in his arms, warmth instantly.

As her husband's arms close around her, she, eyes squeezed shut tightly, finally allows herself to let out, muffled by Burt's chest, the choked down, broken cry that had been logged in her throat for hours now.

"I'm here, Love. I'm here."

There is no reply made of words, but Burt can feel the trembling of his wife's body slowly ebb away as he leads her over to one of the big, soft armchairs.

They curl up in the chair together and are both back half-asleep minutes later - Carole's last thought before she drifts deeper into sleep, _'Please no dreams tonight, just no dreams at all.' _

Her mind never even gets to try to take her this far. They are startled back into full consciousness not long after their eyes have dropped shut, as Kurt suddenly shoots up into a sitting position on the couch to their right.

"Blaine?" he whispers into the dark, daylight still at least an hour away. And Kurt cannot help but flash back to that first night, _'Blaine gone, all gone, please, no, not again. No,'_ waking up alone on the opposite couch, where Kurt's eyes find "… Blaine!" is fast asleep right now.

Kurt's heart is still hammering too hard with fear when his eyes scanning the rest of the room for answers, clues, find his parents sitting in the armchair, Carole already half back to her feet and in the next moment next to Kurt, pulling him close. And Carole, Kurt in her arms, cannot help wishing, _'I wish I could just have held Blaine like this, just hold, gosh, I wish you would, you could ... just ... let me hold you.' _

Kurt hugs back instantly, relief flooding his body at the warmth he can feel, reassuring him he is wide awake and Blaine is actually still here. "Why is Blaine …, we fell asleep together, I fell asleep holding him. What happened?" Carole's heart clenches painfully at how broken, how guilt-ridden Kurt's next words sound, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Sweety, no. No!" Carole says decisively. "He had a nightmare, he woke up and I was there. It's okay."

Kurt shakes his head, forehead now resting against her shoulder, "No. No, it's not okay. I … I …, I just slept through it."

"Kurt, Sweetheart, you are not superhuman. You need sleep too. I was there. It's okay."

Burying his face fully into Carole's shoulder Kurt chokes out, "Nothin'hs ohh-kay."

"Kurt?" Burt asks gently, to catch his son's attention.

"Dad," Kurt half echoes weakly, sad.

"Kurt, we've talked about this before, right? I mean, you know we're here too. I hope you know that. Believe us that ..., we're here because we want to be, and because no one can do this alone. Not Blaine, not you. Not even you two together. Let us help, … both of you. Please? I can't stand seeing you two getting hurt any more."

"How could I sleep through it though? He was, he is in pain and I just, I just, … I just lay here while he was shaking and choking and … and," Kurt is out of words and about to work himself into a panic attack from what he feels deep and desperately, images flashing behind his eyes vivid. Kurt has seen Blaine in unbearable pain more than often enough - waking up shaking violently in Kurt's arms in the middle of the night - to know what it looks like, how desperately Blaine needs someone, _'…me,' _when he is in that state, _'… that head space,' _of nothing but anguish and pain, that pain-drenched moment before his mind decides to give in first, then give up, and leave Blaine's body to itself, ... to run. "Nothi..., nothing lehhft, but getting away," Kurt chokes out under his breath.

Burt quickly makes his way over and sits down next to his son's right, pulling Kurt deep into his arms a second later.

Carole sitting on Kurt's other side is still holding one of his hands in hers as Kurt cries into his dad's embrace.

"Kiddo, we're here, we love you, we love both of you, and neither of you is ... needs to be doin' this alone. And I know I'm a broken record, but I'll keep sayin' this to you and Blaine until I know you both truly believe me. Understood?"

Kurt, breathing still hiccuppy but much calmer now than only moments ago, nods shakily against Burt's chest, then, gently pulling his hand out of Carole's hugs his dad tightly, before moving back a little and asking, "Can I lie back down with him, please? I don't want him to think I just left when he wakes up."

"Go ahead, Kiddo, of course."

"Thanks, Dad."

Thoughts are wordlessly exchanged as eyes briefly stay on each other, until Burt breaks the moment gently with a softly murmured, "I know."

It does take less than two minutes, even with Kurt moving extra slowly and being extra careful then Kurt is snuggled in again under the covers, behind Blaine, hugging the boy curled up on himself tightly to his chest, whispering for only Blaine to hear, "I got you. I love you," into the other boys curls.

Carole and Burt remain sitting on the couch the boys had fallen asleep on only hours ago, as they watch Kurt fall back asleep next to a peaceful looking Blaine, very much like last night.

Burt and Carole eventually settle back further into the couch too, cuddled against each other.

Carole is still quietly watching over the boys asleep as she hears her husband's voice.

"Carole?"

She knows Burt well enough to decipher the tone in his voice as one of realization and '…sadness.' "Yes, Hon?"

"Kurt will never really be okay as long as Blaine isn't."

"He won't. They won't." Feeling her husband tense next to her she takes her eyes of the boys, turns to Burt and adds, voice lowered, "That is why we're here - with them, for them. We'll make sure they know it's okay to be confused and scared and …."

Carole is broken off by a sob from the other side of the room that has both parents stop dead in their tracks.

Carole knows the sound all too well, it had burned itself into her memory hours ago on the kitchen floor.

This time Kurt does not sleep through anything.

Kurt's eyes open wide at the first sound and he finds Blaine lying next to him no longer on his side but now on his back, turned away from Carole and Burt and half turned to Kurt himself, hands covering his face as tears and sobs keep pushing past the sound barrier.

Gently placing his right hand onto Blaine's chest, _'I'm here,' _Kurt breathes out, "Blaine, Baby, no, no, no. What is it? What can I do? Please talk to me." Kurt can already feel the burning in his own eyes again at the sight of his boyfriend … in pain. "Blaine, please."

There are many more stuttering, half-choked breaths and then hands moving; away from Blaine's face, revealing eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, burned by tears unrelenting.

Kurt's eyes keep holding Blaine's, and so Kurt is entirely taken by surprise when Blaine's hands find his right still resting on Blaine's chest gently.

Blaine grasps Kurt's hand tightly, then almost like he is trying to pull Kurt closer guides Kurt's hand higher up his chest, holds it tightly with both his hands over,against, his heart. Kurt's whole body on instinct shifts closer to Blaine's under him.

They are so close Kurt can feel the pain strumming through Blaine's body, can feel breaths stuttering and blood pumping too hard, too fast, having Blaine gasp, lightheaded, several times - all out of sobs - before he finds words.

A split second after Blaine finds words Burt and Carole both know Blaine must have woken up when Kurt snuggled back down with him, Blaine, _'… must have heard us.'_

Under Kurt's touch, with Kurt's body, warm, calming right here with him - half surrounding him by now, trying to shield Blaine from that world of harm, of pain - words, fear and doubt glad in a wet sob leave Blaine's lips, "I am hurting you, Kurt?"

"Shhhh, no, no, no, Baby. What are you talking about? No, you are not, you never …. How …? You don't … don't ever think that way, please." Kurt leans further down, places a soft kiss to Blaine's lips and then gently rests their foreheads together, staying as close as he can without crushing Blaine, without taking the air that is Blaine's to breathe, "We are great. WE are great. The world is a dark shithole," Burt would usually tell his son off for talking like that with anyone, but today he does not even flinch, too aware of the truth buried for the two boys under the harsh words, "but you and I, we …, I worry, of course I do, but it's not pity, never pity. I cannot stand the thought of loosing you, of loosing our happiness ever … ever again. I am sad, so sad, and angry at the world for what it did to you, what it keeps doing to us ...; but for you, for you I only feel love, you only make me feel love. After everything ..., the bullying, the shoving and name-calling, I could not even imagine anymore being loved this ... this fully, ... this completely. Then I met you. You … you are wonderful."

Blaine, turning fully into Kurt's embrace now, burrying himself there, holding on to Kurt with all he has, as if he is the one, suddenly, afraid Kurt might run, keeps sobbing, and Kurt can only hope he has said, he is doing, he is saying the right thing. "You are wonderful, Blaine, Baby. You are wonderful. To me … you are perfect. I love _you_. Not just any version or part of you. I love _you_."


	24. The Ordinary Pain

**A/N: **So this wanted out, and I had no energy left to fight it. I guess there is something to be said for staying up way past a reasonable bedtime – well it brought you a new chapter, anyway …

… THANK YOU so much to the four people who cared enough to review last chapter. Without your continued care, love and support, reviewers, without you to talk to about this story … I could not do this, I could not keep going.

THANK YOU, for being my support system, for being my Kurt, Burt and Carole. I need to feel that I am telling this story to more than anonymous numbers in my traffic stats. I can't say it often enough, THANK YOU for giving that to me, to me it is the best Christmas, Birthday or whatever present ever:

**musicbeyondmagic: **Kurt's words to Blaine were SO important to me, thank you for letting me know they did not go unnoticed.

**intensewhatever: **About that ending Klaine scene, my favorite part is how Blaine shifts and turns to Kurt as the pain hits him so unbearably hard. I wanted to show how he now has someone to turn to, literally, in all ways.

**Chelsea: **Thank you, it means so much to hear my writing can make you feel something, it is such a huge part of why I write; and it is therefore so amazing to hear. THANK YOU, Chelsea.

**Jayno: **It is so great to know all my character interpretations are appreciated. I always fear I don't do Burt and Carole justice. Thank you for letting me know you think I do.

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>24: The Ordinary Pain<br>**

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><p>Twenty-two minutes later …, Blaine is still shaking in Kurt's arms.<p>

And all Kurt can feel is Blaine's pain, sharpened by Kurt's own paralyzing worry.

Kurt is all out of thoughts.

Kurt is all out of words.

So they lie there, wound around each other. And Kurt waits.

And Kurt keeps waiting.

And Blaine would cry himself through exhaustion back into sleep, … but he cannot, just cannot allow himself to go there, not today, and it only makes him cry harder, bury himself deeper in Kurt's embrace, still fighting the impulse, deep instinct, … to run.

There are two ways, there are only two ways Blaine knows - running, getting out, or … unconsciousness of a different kind, more literal, to take away the blunt, persistent, pounding pain from deep within.

Some nights especially bad, in freshman year, Blaine had knocked himself out, on purpose, too tired to deal at all with the pain.

It had been too easy,in every way, every sense, with a handful big gulps, every time – never needing more, tiny kid that he had been, still feels like so often – from a bottle of vodka taken from his father's supplies.

But he had hated the taste, and the headaches, and the distinct possibility of turning into his own father before even truly reaching puberty, … before ever having had the chance to get out, grow out of his father's sick sphere of control.

Sleep of any kind, induced with something else or not, is nothing he can even bring himself to wish for now, knows the next nightmare is waiting for him. He cannot see how it could be different after this night.

So Blaine tries something he has never tried before to get through the pain, out of the grip the memories fractured, shaped into nightmares, have on him, choking, grim.

Sometimes Blaine thinks the only reason he does not live through his nightmares in black and white – instead in colors inexplicably cold and too bright at the same time – is his deep love for silent films, not least for the music that accompanies them – the sole piano.

Sure, the absence of voices too had drawn him in, as a small child hiding away in his room from the screaming and shouting downstairs. But even more so, for some reason, there lies comfort so huge in it for Blaine, in the idea that one person alone can conjure up all the emotions he can read on faces projected to the screen, big or small, in melodies endless, endlessly beautiful, calming, to Blaine then and now.

'_A single person can … can do so many things. Maybe …, maybe I can,' _it is with this thought that Blaine grows truly still in Kurt's arms, Kurt's hold growing stronger with the silence lasting out minutes – tormenting Kurt's mind, already filled with fear, further. That is until he hears the voice, small but for this one moment soft and clear, "I need to remember. I need to tell you. I can't do it alone." His name is a pleading, desperate sound, "Kurt, I need to remember." The plea is followed by a sob and a broken whisper, "Can you help me? … remember?"

Kurt, placing kiss after kiss into Blaine's curls, keeps murmuring softly, "I will, we will, we will remember, together. You talked to Carole, didn't you? Tell me what you told Carole, let us start there, yes?"

So Blaine does, in tears and shaking recalls those memories, those nightmares about his mother and about ..., he tells Kurt too about Esther.

And then Kurt is crying again too, as Blaine tells how he wishes to think they both just tried to help, but memories strong, foggy but still too clear to not cut sharp into his core, will not let him. "I need, I need to understand. I don't know how to ever understand what happened to my mother, what she did that night I keep being pulled back into. We were sitting on a hard floor and … there … there was so much cold … all in me. And my hands were all sticky and that smell, I can't forget that smell. But I don't know what it was either, and my arms, my arms just wouldn't stop hurting." And just like that Kurt's palms soft, gentle, accepting and calming are running over the bare skin of Blaine's forearms again, forever wounded. Like one had that night at the kitchen table, the night Kurt had first found out.

Carole cannot keep her lips still anymore, braved into speaking by Burt's arms strong around her, holding her close, safe, "Blaine, Sweetheart, did your mother …," but she cannot get the unthinkable over her lips, so instead drawing in a deep breath past them before she carefully choosing the words goes on, "Our doctor's visit, Blaine. The doctor, she said some of the cuts on your arms are really old. Can you remember how you got them?"

Blaine shakes his head, "I've … I've just had them always. I had them in kindergarten already. I remember because, one day one of the moms there, Peter's mom, saw them when she helped me put on my winter coat, and after Peter wasn't allowed to play with me anymore. So I started hiding them. I hadn't known before they were bad. I learned that day."

Kurt carts his right hand careful and steady but slow, in a caress reaching far and deep, through Blaine's curls, to regain his attention, eyes having drifted closed, then squeezed shut, too hard, as the hurtful memories had taken over once more, one more time too many.

It is focus and Blaine's eyes back on his own that Kurt draws with the love so clear in the intimate touch. "Love, I need you to listen closely, okay?"

Blaine nods, swallowing thickly, his eyes, in a fight with himself, staying on Kurt's, Blaine staying with Kurt.

Kurt says, voice determined but full of care, "Blaine,... Blaine, Baby, there is nothing, _nothing_ bad about you. _Nothing_ evil or wrong. Can you understand that? Can you trust me with this until you feel like you can trust yourself with it?"

Blaine shakes his head, eyes still wide open on Kurt's but flowing over with heavy tears, again and again, in a silence numbing Kurt's every hope, Blaine's next words beating it into a bloody pulp it hurts Kurt to hold on to, "I can't. I don't know how."

The agony of honesty wanted, of darkness feared revealed in it, comes to stand between them, dense and daunting, with such ordinary words uttered, by this far from ordinary boy.

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><p>AN: Merry Christmas? This turned so dark:( I feel like I could, maybe should have seen this coming. On the paper it unfolds in all its shades and facets, I guess in my head it was much more abstract still. I had not known it would hurt this much to write, to actually really write this down. Wow, I am exhausted now. But I also do like that I can still surprise myself writing, not so much with the storyline but with all the details to it – to me they are what make the story, any story I write or read.


	25. Wrong

**A/N:  
><strong>A new year, and ... a new chapter. It has been almost one year now since I first started this story, thought originally as a one-, then two-shot, ... well. Thank you to everyone who is still sticking around, and who joined on the way.

I honestly managed to make myself cry writing this chapter.

I guess this is a chapter a lot of you might have been waiting for, yes, finally, you get to know some more now; it is by no means the whole story though. Not at all.

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><p>Reviewers:) I adore you all to bits!<p>

To **intensewhatever**: Hope the update was quick enough:) I know, they never are, are they?!

To **Rory46**: It is always the most amazing thing, to hear when someone tells me they reread my writing. That you consider it worth your time, and not just once, it is so ... THANK YOU! Thank you for all your kindness and love for this story, I am so glad the details matter not just to me, I sometimes fear I might be going overboard with them.

To **Becky**: Your review has me speechless. You are wonderfully kind. I am so glad you can tell from my writing how deeply I care about this story. I always worry I won't do it justice, and you guys who keep supporting me. You deserve something great, and I am always trying to give my best. I can only hope it is enough.

To **annkum**: Energy and inspiration, yes, definitly important. Thank you for wishing me well. There are more dark chapters to come. I think this one, for one. Hope it remains a good read despite, no, because of it.

To **butterflyrain23**: I hope you are well these days, and of course your username makes me smile still:) Never a need to apologize for not reviewing, I just really always want to make a point of thanking the reviewers because you guys mean so much to me.

To **harleygirl81**: So great to hear you are still enjoying the story. Hope you and your family are well again? I know from experience some things can never be fixed again once broken, but I hope you are doing better. Love, M

To **hma1010**: Happy, very happy to know my story still does have a pull on you:)

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>25: Wrong<strong>

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><p>"I'm nothing, I'm garbage, I'm dirt, hurt, pain, poison, wrong, wrong, wrong, all wrong," Blaine chokes out turning away.<p>

Away from Kurt's touch, out of Kurt's reach, he stumbles to his feet, takes three steps then crumbles in on himself right there on the living room floor.

Kurt is scared to move …, too scared not to.

So he does get up, traces Blaine's footsteps with his own, sinks down behind Blaine and encloses the trembling boy - cried raw already, drenched in saltwater, burning, still – in a cocoon of warmth, hold.

And Kurt had never known before this very moment that a human being can make such sounds, they are nothing Kurt can name - when Blaine lets go of every fiber in his body, allows the overwhelming pain to be felt – they are everything at once.

A howling choked back with cries cutting, drenched in screams of agony only almost heard, broken in twos, fours, more, with pain piercing breaths - too short to be even called stuttering or breaths anymore at all.

All one sound, torturing tortured sound, it is Blaine's body, his whole being spilling over with pain too well hidden, masked all this time, now acknowledged, allowed to be seen first for what it is, bloody, raw, all-consuming.

For what feels like an eternity to Kurt, there are no thoughts.

There is holding …, holding on. Trying, trying so hard to pull away, help pull away from blackness and pain.

Then, "You are kind, you are strong, you are friendship and love, you are loved, you belong, Blaine, you belong here. You are family, you are loved. I love you. You are safe, you are loved."

Blaine is still facing away from everyone else, Kurt still wrapped around him sitting on the floor, "I am," he breaks of with another torn sob, "I am haehhted toohh. I will always be hhaehted. He has stopped hhhittting me. Hehh, he wihll ahhlways hhate me."

Kurt feels sick already asking the question, "You won't go back there, right?"

"Hehh's mahy fahhther, Kurht."

They both know it is not an answer.

Burt starts in a broken whisper "You're not ev…."

Carole has to hold Burt back from barging in, "I know it's impossible to watch," she says to her husband voice strong, decicive, decidedly quiet too, "but they both need this, honesty," her look pleading. And Burt does not like it in the least, but he does get it, sits back, whole body tense with inaction too much.

Kurt chokes out, after desperately and uselessly trying to choke down the tears, "You cannot go back there. Pleahhse! Pleahse dohn't go bahck there."

Blaine's blubbering, wet voice then turns - after a moment of desperate quiet filled only with more sobs from both boys - cutting, cold, but there is no full control, not today, sobs sneaking back in, shaking words found. "He just ignorhes me thehhse days, slurhs at me when he has had just enouhhgh to drindrinhk. He is ahlways drunk. That's what if feels like."

"He is danhgerouhhs, Blaine."

"He is yhuyuhseless."

"How dohh you know hehhh, hehh won't, won't, hit you againh? Pleahhse don't go back thehhre, pleahhse, Blaine. I know hehh's ahhlways hurhurtting you."

"He has-hasn't since his own father died, hit me" and with these words Kurt can feel Blaine's emotional detachment growing even stronger, last traces of sobs replaced by a voice still small but almost steady, undoubtedly cold now, and Kurt cannot help think, _'… hopeless. Scared, more ... scary.' _

Kurt does not want to be right, wants his suspicions, his whole mind to be _'… wrong, just wrong. Please! Oh, please.'_

"His father always edged him on; told him to set me straight." Blaine lets out a humorless, dead laugh, "He had no idea. _I_ had no idea then …. He said that I was my weak mother's son, and that I needed strength to be driven, to be threshed into me. So they kept getting drunk together and … whenever they were drunk enough, they would …."

Kurt buries his face in Blaine's back, tries to hold on tighter still - not that he possibly physically could - wishes this, theirs, was a different world.

It isn't.

"They would come up to my room, and push me around. I don't know when it started, but I was seven when I first remember them doing more. Hitting me, with hands, belts … too. They would set fire to my plush animals sometimes, with booze and cigarets, mostly when I was not there to abuse, sometimes I was there too though. Don't know how I did not die in a fire haze sooner or later."

Kurt lets out a deep sob at the realization where that one deep scar he has felt before on Blaine's side must stem from. Hand wandering under Blaine's shirt one time, while kissing draped around each other on Kurt's bed, there had been no way to miss so deep a scar - a belt buckle catching harshly, digging too deep, drawing blood, maybe repeatedly, after a drinking spree that had those who had been meant to protect Blaine in the mood to abuse.

'_A mood,' _Kurt feels the urge to vomit, his senses all focused on Blaine in his arms all that really keeps him from it.

Blaine's control, all fascade for self-preservation, none real, not even the coldness,masking pain again, poorly, it keeps slipping, "I learned to hihihde. The attic. There was this wohhne, wohne spot with a loose roofing tile above. I could push it aside. I would sihht in the dark for houhhrs, whole nighhts, and wait with Babar, for the stars to come out."

"Babar?" Carole asks gently through her own tears.

"My plush elephant. I had to safe him from them. I needed him, and he needed me."

Kurt sobs, _'Being needed, feeling wanted, loved,'_ "You waihhted for the starstarhhs tohh cohcohhme out," head twisting to search out Carole's eyes.

Kurt finds her nodding, _'Yes, I know, Sweetheart, I know. It all makes sense now, the woods, the cabin. He is just trying to feel safe again.' _

"His father, my grandfa..., died when I turned nine. That is when my fahther started shipping me off to boarding schoohls first, for a while at leahhst. Until he dedecicided I was not worth the, the, money."

Kurt had not thought Blaine's voice could get any colder, hates that his sweet, loving, caring Blaine needs to go to these places to be able to say all this at all.

"You wehwere safe," Kurt says gently, hoping still to reach his Blaine again.

Blaine turns around then in Kurt's arms, and Kurt finds Blaine's eyes ablaze with pain, voice cracking in Blaine's chest, _'My Blaine,' _like ice too thin to walk on, splintering, "I've never felt safe again."

"Blaihne, ..."

"I am ... I'm tryihhgn toh tohh feel saehfe. Imh tryhihng, Kurt. Imh ..."

Kurt pulls Blaine, limbs stiff, body cold, in one tight motion allowing for no doubt of closeness wanted, love given right here, into his lap, just holds the again sobbing boy to his chest. Tears hot and heavy as they hit Kurt's shirt, skin, Blaine's hands, clasped hard into Kurt's top. Blaine's knuckles are turning white as ice, as the rest of his body comes back alive in Kurt's arms, warm, soft, trusting again, more and more, not to be hurt, the cold, stiff shell cracking, crumbling away with every slow, painfully stuttering breath.

After Blaine's breathing has evened out still a little more Kurt moves to cup Blaine's cheeks with both hands.

It takes a moment for Blaine to dare to raise his eyes from where they have been pinned to Kurt's shirt to find eyes, gaze soft and warm in that way Blaine is convinced no one else has ever looked at him his entire life.

"I will keep you safe."

Blaine lets out a whimper, a sound high-strung with pain and doubt unwanted, unwelcome ... but there.

Kurt knows it is not that Blaine does not want to think Kurt's words to be the truth, it is hard, this is hard for Blaine, _'I wish this was not so hard for you,'_ "We will keep each other safe."

And Blaine cannot smile, but his head keeps nodding on its own accord, as tears keep streaming down his face, get caught on Kurt's hands, steady, strong, there.

"I don't have to be alone anymore?" Blaine asks, voice small, his eyes drifting back to Kurt's shirt, and his own hands still clasping it.

Kurt ducks his head in response, offering his lips, his love to Blaine's.

Kurt feels that fist tightening in his chest around his heart in the split second that Blaine hesitates.

The first brush of lips, as Blaine slowly tilts his head to meet Kurt's lips, has Kurt suck in a harsh breath, his body being flooded with new hope as they together deepen the kiss, tasting of tears, fast, Kurt willing Blaine to be able to feel what Kurt cannot stand Blaine having to doubt, _'You don't ever have to feel alone again. You are wanted, you are safe. You are loved.' _


	26. swimmingly?

**A/N: **I'm on fire, I know:)

I hope I got all the tenses right in this. Whenever I write these kind of chapters with time-jumps (as I like to call them) in them, it feels like I might be slipping up without really having the required distance to my own writing to be able to tell.

Please point out any mistakes you can find, I will be forever grateful for you telling me off for messing up. NO I am not on crack, I mean it.

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><p>Reviewers;)<p>

To **musicbeyondmagic**: Two reviews:) that is so sweet of you, THANK YOU! I hope you love the story getting more dynamic again now.

To **snowangellms**: Thank you for the kick in the story-butt, I think I needed it, and I hope you especially like what I've done. Your feedback is what made this chapter possible the way it is. I might have pressed more of this information into that one day description if I hadn't heard from you. Gosh, I hope you like this! And again I am so grateful for your feedback, I had been somewhat desperately looking for a way to liven up this story again, and your criticism had me think harder than I think I would have otherwise, and it certainly had me making different choices in style.

To **butterflyrain23**: I am not exactly glad you had to cry, but I am excited and happy my writing could touch you in this way. Does that sound horrible of me? I hope not. And uh, do tell, what other username/s have you been considering? Don't let me stop you from changing it. Change is good, and in most areas of life unavoidable.

To **intensewhatever**: I think I have already spoiled that cliffhanger for you with my big mouth, darn;) I hope you love the chapter regardless! And finally, a quick enough update, Right! (grins WAY too smugly)

To **hma1010**: I hope the more I provide is more than satisfactory:) Love you are loving the story!

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>26: … swimmingly?<strong>

It is almost two weeks after that day, _the day_, and Kurt still, gladly, spends most of his time holding Blaine, around the house, in the backyard, on walks …, in bed at night.

They have not made it to school much in the last two weeks.

And since Burt and Carole want to take no chances, they go to see the headmaster before they are even asked.

It turns out Blaine has not gone as unnoticed in school - outside the happy façade he had put on for the Warblers, sometimes even having been able to forget he had been pretending – as it seems to Burt and Carole Blaine himself had thought all along.

"Blaine has always been quiet outside of Glee …, sad. Several teachers remarked on it over the years, and then your son had shown up. I had the impression Kurt and Blaine were very good for each other. What has happened?"

"They _are_, more than good for each other. And I'm sorry, but all we can do is tell you the truth in a way that leaves Blaine and Kurt protected," Carole starts.

The headmaster opens her mouth to interject but Carole, shaking her head goes on.

"Miss Harper, health and family issues, highly private issues, will have Kurt and Blaine missing most of school at least until after the Easter holidays, in, likely, highly erratic patterns, maybe altogether. We would appreciate it if you could organize for us to pick up their school work for the weeks before the holiday, ideally at the end of the week, so that we can home school our boys until they're able to productively and permanently return."

"There will be no refunds for that month, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel."

Burt grumbles almost angrily, reminded that the apparently well-meaning woman in truth has no idea what has been, what is going on in her students' lives, wonders how much she really cares, "We're not here about any money."

"Good."

"Although …," Carole starts looking between her husband and Miss Harper, "Could you tell us who pays for Blaine's schooling here?"

"Normally I could not give out such details, but Blaine Anderson is a special case," she says, with a to Burt and Carole just irritatingly bright smile.

"Why?" Carole inquires slightly worried.

"Well, I have to say I'm surprised you don't know this already. Blaine Anderson is the recipient of one of the six full scholarships this school offers at any given time. Each year a freshman, sometimes transfer sophomores with outstanding results, as in Blaine's case, is awarded one, regardless of previous grades, based solely on an admission test we have all school applicants sit before the start of the new school year. There are several other, smaller ones, but …."

"Figures," Burt huffs out with a smile in his voice, sadness too still swinging in his words, "Smart kid. Though kid."

Carole is not satisfied yet, needing to make sure, "How have his grades been lately?"

"Well, the last three weeks or so not many tests have been held if that's what you mean. I take it that's when the problems started?"

Burt wants to protest, tell Miss Harper how wrong she is, but Carole steps in, "He's already getting better again, he and Kurt just need some time to regain full focus to work as dedicated as before. Blaine won't lose his scholarship now, will he?" Carole clasps her hands in her lap, over her handbag, before speaking that last sentence, all too aware her hands had begun to tremble with nerves.

She is grateful when Burt reaches over and offers his right hand to her, something to help ground her thoughts.

"As long as he keeps up his grades, and this one month, does not turn into two, or more, I see no problem. But there will be some extra tests after Easter for both of them to take, to make up for those they will be missing now. His scholarship is for the full four, well in his case three years, until graduation. What I'm saying is, even if we wanted to, it would not be that easy to take it away from him again. We make a commitment to these kids we take in despite them not having the finances. We are very well aware of that."

"Good," Burt says decidedly, then adds, "I mean …, thank you."

Miss Harper is about to get up to usher them out, when Burt speaks up again, and she only reluctantly sinks back into her seat, "One more thing."

"Yes?"

"You will have to tell the Andersons about this I take it?"

"Well, we will send out a letter, stating the general facts, yes. So they are officially informed. You will receive the same letter."

"A letter," Carole shakes her head in disbelief, _'That is all they are required to do?'_

Burt's thoughts though are elsewhere as he asks, "Is there a way for us to contact Blaine's parents? An address? A phone number? Anything you can share with us?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Blaine has been trusting the whole family more these past days, slowly stretching into weeks.

Most visible it is maybe in the way he does no longer always hide away, out of sight, to draw in his notebook or on separate papers, gratefully using the supplies Burt and Carole had brought him and Kurt from the arts and crafts store in Columbus, with that unusual logo of a giraffe, dark blue.

'_Trust,' _Kurt suspects it most of all has to do with the fact that that morning after a night in Kurt's and Carole's arms, Blaine still wrapped in Kurt's arms while walking back into the kitchen, Blaine had found the notebook, his notebook, as he had left it …, untouched balancing on the brink of the kitchen table he had sat at the night before with Carole.

Privacy not even asked for respected. Everything that belongs to Blaine treated with as much love and respect as the boy himself.

Realizing this so clear for the first time, that he, this time, might just be right to trust, Blaine had broken into tears once more. Kurt had not asked for nor needed an explanation.

The next days had been mostly filled with sleep, and walks, and more sleep …, food as far as Blaine and Kurt had felt able to stomach it.

Blaine has woken up in sweat and trembling, in the middle of the night, three more times since. Has had to run to the bathroom, and thrown up.

And Kurt has been by his side in the blink of an eye, each time.

But only the first time had he had to ask at all, tenderly, _"Nightmare?"_ - just to make absolutely sure he was not over-interpreting his own thoughts.

Blaine had responded with an only just visible nod, as he had already stumbled back to his feet to rinse out his mouth, Kurt right there to take him back into his arms as soon as he had felt ready again, not just that first time.

The most precious to Blaine so far has been, still is, the quiet around the house, in his whole life right now. Dalton might have been safe all along, but by no means quiet, by day or night, teenage boys everywhere.

At the Hummels' it had been so sudden a quiet the first days after that night that Burt and Carole had grown very worried very quickly, and stayed that way for days.

That had been before Carole had worked up the nerve to sit Kurt and Blaine down to talk, who had both calmly explained _"It feels good, right, right now."_

The sudden absence of voices singing, laughter, even friendly shouting (usually mostly Finn's) around the house nevertheless still keeps feeling harsh to the adults not used to it at all - Finn trying to be considerate too, spending a lot of time at Puck's, adding to the silence Burt and Carole simply cannot help but feel to be slightly unnerving.

They promised themselves, and each other, quickly though, to try their best to give it time, hold back on questions intrusive and, too, ask no less of the world - demanding and too often cold.

It had brought them here today, to Dalton, asking the world to care.

They are both quiet on most of the drive home. But somehow it is an okay quiet, address and phone number in their pocket, just in case … they are both not sure of what exactly, do not dare think too much about it right now. But it had felt important to try their best to be prepared.

Now they are, for whatever may come – only more willing to fight, for Kurt, and for Blaine.

Carole breaks the quiet thirty minutes out of town, "Don't forget the stop we have to make."

"You think Kurt is right? That we should be doing this without asking Blaine first?" Burt asks not exactly sounding worried, more uncertain.

Carole draws in a deep breath, slowly letting it back out before answering, "I mean it is already unbelievably lucky we could get hold of them this fast. But honestly, I don't know. I trust Kurt. And Kurt knows Blaine better than any of us, and if Kurt thinks there is a chance it might help I know I don't want to not try, just because I have my doubts."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It is the late afternoon when Blaine, sitting alone in Kurt's room, drawing, is called downstairs to the living room by Carole.

He takes the steps slowly but surely. Two weeks ago he would have been a nervous wreck right now, wondering, torturing himself with the thoughts of what exactly he has done wrong. Today he is smiling at the thought that Carole pays as much attention to him as she does, every day, including him in every way she can. _'Maybe I get to help make dinner again, I'd love that.'_

Kurt, Burt, Carole and even Finn are already in the living room when Blaine enters, finding them standing huddled around one of the couches.

Blaine is not sure if he likes this, nor if he should.

Spotting Blaine, they start stepping back from the furniture, giving Blaine a clear view of...

… drowning, Blaine is positively sure he is drowning as his own meet first one, then another pair of brown eyes.


	27. Break Right Through

**A/N: **Not much to say, except … wow did I miss writing this story.

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><p><strong>hma1010:<strong> Sometimes I find cliffhangers really invigorating for a story, I hope that was how it felt with this one!

**intensewhatever: **Glad to know you were so captivated by the last chapter.

**icheeseflip13: **Hi, thank you for letting me know this story does have a pull on people like you who came to it later on (or did I get that wrong? It sounded in your review like you only recently found this, and found it could be read pleasurably from start to current chapter. I apologize if it isn't so). It is one of the big things one hopes for as a writer, I think, pull in one's writing. I certainly do, so thank you again.

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>27: Break Right Through<strong>

"Kurt, you didn't," Blaine says, shaking his head, and already wrapping his arms around himself protectively as his eyes find his boyfriend's.

"Blaine, this, it's … I didn't mean to …." Kurt stops dead in search for the right words, his eyes sparkling bright only a moment ago are now already dulling with worry. "Aren't you happy?"

"Happy?" Blaine asks sounding completely lost. "I didn't trust you with this so you would go out and … and …." _'… bring someone new to hurt into my life, our life.' _"I … I'm …," _'…terrified.' _And then the tears are beginning to flow. But they are sad, not angry, scared, not livid. And Blaine's voice is quivering, "This is so wrong …. I can't."

Blaine has already half turned away when Kurt reaches him and awkwardly catches him sideways in his arms.

Blaine stands frozen for a moment before he goes almost completely slack, slumping into Kurt's now tightening embrace.

The words are broken, "Kurt, why?"

Kurt can only think of one word to answer, "Happiness."

Burt and Carole remain standing, looking worried at the two, while Finn has already sat himself down on the free couch, eyes glued with a grin to the other couch and its occupants, hair brown and black, and those eyes …, "Dude! How could you not love them?"

"How …? What?" Blaine still sounding dazed asks back with Finn's excited voice still ringing in his ears.

Kurt twists his head to unsuccessfully try and make eye-contact with Finn for a moment, hoping to convey the seriousness of the situation, which Finn clearly is not grasping. "He hasn't even met them yet properly, Finn. You can't just say that, not right now, … this isn't about ...," '_about you Finn,'_ it is what Kurt had been meaning to say, but he is interrupted by Blaine's worry spilling over into words.

"Finn, we …, Kurt, we can't keep them. You can't be serious, I can't even … myself ..., we can't … I … I …," and with the next words sobs suddenly spill out between Blaine's lips, together with two names drenched in pleading sounds "Carole," "Burt," and "Please, no," over and over. It takes minutes for him to calm down again.

Finn sits there all the while watching with a frown Blaine's reaction to something that had been meant to be nothing but a happy surprise, as far as Finn is concerned. And he just cannot understand how this could ever be taken as anything but just that.

Then again Finn has not been with Kurt and Blaine during all those talks they have had. He has not held Blaine crying for hours and hours, because Blaine is just too afraid, of others, of himself - maybe not most but far too much of the time. Finn is not the one who has held him through the days Blaine has been too afraid to even dare think about trying anymore, trusting anymore; and yes, those days are some days still. And it does not help that Blaine knows, too well, _that_ is all it takes, some days of being too exhausted yourself to care enough to take care to not hurt others, even the ones you love, maybe especially them. _'Kurt.'_

He has had to grow up like that after all, with people uncaring. And the question how one becomes like that will not stop haunting him, ripping him from sleep at night, drenched in sweat and feeling the urge to vomit, like his body is trying to eject the fear and doubt quite literally.

Blaine cannot bear that thought that comes to him, cutting clear, in those nights. He not seldom pretends to fall asleep again then waits for Kurt to follow, scoots out of Kurt's arms as soon as he does, and sleeps at a safe distance from Kurt, at the very edge of the bed, a pillow placed in Kurt's arms to keep him grounded without Blaine right there. With Blaine right there no longer daring to touch, the thought thrumming in his head and following him into his dreams, _'What if I turn into that one day? What if … I am like them one day?'_

And so Kurt knows not everything either, not how much deeper that fear of that horrific potential to hurt runs in Blaine. But he knows, down deep to the bone, what Finn does not seem to, _'The scars, they are not just on Blaine's skin, are under and inside, unreachable to the eye, burning, sometimes, with the smallest thought or movement.'_

Blaine's tears and sobs grow to be the only sounds heard for minutes, whole and stretching and yet over in the blink of an eye. And suddenly, the moment the silence hits is there.

That moment, the moment the dead quiet hits the room and people in it, is the one that has both Carole and Burt worry most yet. Being utterly unable to tell what is going on in Blaine's head now, not that it has ever been easy lately, but this, '_This silence is unbearable,'_ Carole thinks, her insides churning. Closely followed by another terrifying thought, _'Did I get it all wrong?'_ Her hand tightens around Burt's, body thrumming with worry exhausting. Burt squeezes back in reassurance. They wait together.

Moments later Blaine moves out of Kurt's arms, takes a few steps, still facing Kurt, but lets go of Kurt completely, who reaches out for him, but Blaine, eyes finding the floor, just shakes his head and takes another step away.

Two deep breaths and Blaine has lifted his head again, is looking around the room, again, at all six other occupants, his face a motionless mask.

"Blaine," it is a scared whisper coming from Kurt's lips.

Only the words spilling over, broken wet sounds, drenched in all he is fighting to keep in right now, give him away, "Please, I don't want to hurt them too."

Then his eyes break into a mosaic of pains mixing from deep within. The colors are sharp, broken into a dozen or more stinging pieces by the tears yet unshed gathering in Blaine's eyes, ever more persistently.

Blaine is wrapped back in Kurt's arms in a flash, buried, deep and right this time, in a chest warm. His eyes already falling shut, as he hears Kurt's voice softly murmuring comforts, have the tears spill over, finally deepest held tension finding brief relief.

He might already have been crying for minutes before, sobbing his heart out, but Kurt's "I love yous", "you are safe," "you are loved, Blaine, you are loved," "It's okay to be afraid, it's okay," have the salt water break and spring from somewhere much deeper, everything, Blaine's whole insides burning as it rises to the surface. It hurts in a whole new way.

It is this moment, held by Kurt, that Blaine for the first time really realizes how it is he has come even this far, can still breathe, feeling this pain, the pain he had just kept running from before, for so long. _'He's, … you are holding me together when I can't,'_ and the comfort of Kurt's voice, of Kurt's words, right then sinks deeper than it ever has before.

"You won't hurt them. Blaine, you are not hurting me either, remember? I love having you here. I want you here. I want to be with you. You give me so much love, you make me feel so very loved." Kurt will not let Blaine forget it again, not have him needing to guess or doubt, he is wanted, he is … "Love. I love you so much." Kurt is determined to be here to help him remember, on the best and on the worst days, and in the very worst hours.

"But what _if_ I end up hurting them?" Blaine is whispering brokenly again, unable to just let go off a fear so big, so deep, more than deep and dark enough to drown more than himself in.

This, _this_, is what he is most afraid of after all, what he has been most afraid of all along and has been unable to say until now.

Not the pitying looks, not even the judgment from strangers when a shirt slips and reveals skin anything but flawless, has been his biggest fear day in day out, but that letting someone who cares close enough to help would always, forever, mean putting them in harm's way, hurting them, too, intentionally or not. Blaine cannot see how the difference in that matters. _'Pain is pain. And it hurts.'_ And how can he ever be any better than his father and grandfather if he too keeps hurting people?

Lost in that thought, held together by Kurt's arms alone, or so it feels to Blaine, that is when he feels, too, something nudging at his right leg.

As his eyes blink open and he draws back a little, startled, out of Kurt's tight embrace, without letting go at all this time, there is one of them, at his feet, looking up at him through big brown eyes, tongue sticking out a little in the most adorable way.

Blaine, swallowing hard, kneels down on the carpet, left hand remaining awkwardly intertwined with Kurt's right, who is still standing beside them.

All ten fingers trembling, five against Kurt's skin, who only holds on tighter, Blaine reaches out his right hand to pet the fur carefully, shakily. It is a goldish brown in places, white, gray, and some darker spots, "What's his name?"

"Her, actually," Carole says, tentative to speak up and interrupt but smiling gently. "They are both girls, and … we thought _you_ might like to name them."

Blaine looks up at Carole and Burt, then Kurt, with eyes wide, and Kurt cannot help the grin at seeing Blaine's eyes finally alight again with the little hope Blaine allows himself to show, to feel, so astonishingly clearly there, even in between of all the doubt and fear.

Kurt knows it will take time for Blaine to allow that hope to grow into happiness, allowed to really be felt. But they have that, time, together.

Kurt gives another especially warm squeeze to Blaine's trembling left hand, still securely held in his own right, and kneels down beside his boyfriend.

"They are husky pups, right?" Blaine asks swallowing heavily as he leans into Kurt's side, voice still raw from all the tears shed and unshed, emotional exhaustion heavy in his every muscle and bone.

His head comes to rest on Kurt's shoulder before his eyes wander back to the dog right here with him still, now adorably nosing at Blaine's right knee.

"She likes you," Carole says with a wide smile.

"She … she does?" Blaine asks eyes almost comically wide as he looks over at Carole.

Carole nods happily, proudly, fully taking in Blaine and the pup, _'This, this is so right.' _"Yeah, she really does. She did not want to sit still with any of us. Look at her now," Carole adds as the pup is just curling up on Blaine's lap.

"But …, why?" Blaine asks, hand petting still very carefully, not certain how or where he is allowed to touch the warm bundle of fur.

"Maybe she was a little scared, surrounded by all us giants," Kurt jokes lovingly.

"Are you making jokes about my height, Kurt?" Blaine asks with a playfully serious voice, face still nothing but features, Kurt finds, marked by exhaustion.

"No," Kurt quips, pressing a kiss to Blaine's forehead. "Never. Not me." And then they are both smiling tentatively, but, and both can tell when their eyes meet again, from somewhere deep within.

When Blaine looks down again there are two sets of eyes looking right back, big, brown, trusting.

Kurt, studying Blaine's expression all along, can see the doubt still lingering on Blaine's face as Blaine pets the brown and the black husky puppy now with both hands, but his side still firmly pressed into Kurt's and Kurt's arms wound securely around Blaine's waist, keeping the two of them close, not letting Blaine forget, _'I'm here, I'm right here with you.'_

Finn bounces up of the couch and follows the pup that a moment ago had still sat in Finn's own lap over to Blaine, sits down too on the floor.

"So, names! I reckon …."

But Burt interrupts Finn, "Yes, names. Blaine, what are you thinking? Any ideas?"

"Can we really do this? We can't, can we?" Blaine questions, locking eyes with Carole, then Burt, panic visibly beginning to rise in him again.

"Why not, Blaine? We are five grown people, who can share the work that comes with them." Carole says with a soft, wide smile, drawing Blaine's eyes back on her.

A moment later she is kneeling on the carpet with them. "And Blaine, I have always wanted a dog too, preferably a husky. I think they are wonderful. They love the cold and especially snow, like I do, and Kurt has told me you do too."

Blaine nods hesitantly, biting his lower lip, as his eyes flicker back down to the puppies and then up again to Carole, all the while feeling Kurt's reassuring presence with him.

Carole catches that same spark in Blaine's eyes Kurt had found before, _'Hope.'_ Encouraged by that she goes on, because this, it was a quick decision, yes, but by no means an unreasoned one, "Huskies love to run, loads. Did you know that Blaine?"

"No, I … I didn't. Is that why you chose them?"

"Well, Kurt told us that one of the things you two talked about after you gave him Pavarotti …."

"The Warblers."

"Sorry?" Carole asks.

"It were the Warblers who gave Kurt Pavarotti, not just me. It's an old school tradition."

"Oh, okay, sorry. So, Kurt told us you two talked about pets that whole week, and you told him how much you had always wanted a puppy, but because you were at boarding school so much …," Carole, suddenly growing sad, trails off for a moment, now knowing more of the truth than just that, "But you are here now, and I had always wanted a dog too, but it can be hard with small kids around, especially with huskies, they lose a lot of fur, and kids put just about everything in their mouths, especially Finn."

"Hey," can be weakly heard in protest from Finn.

"Sorry, Sweety, it's true. Anyway, so I made myself forget all about it for a while, and then I thought I could not do it all alone with work and all, and Finn is at school all the time anyway with Glee and football, so I kept putting it off. And then we learned about your wish, and, sometimes it takes others dreams to remind you of your own, … and, well, huskies love to run, so I thought, when they are a little bigger, if you wanted to go for runs, or walks, alone, but not … alone, you know, … I mean you would not have to, but, they will love to run with you."

"You thought about all that, for me?"

Carole nods smiling fully again. She has thought of much more than that, but there is time and she will not risk overrunning Blaine with all of it right now. He will learn about it in just that, time, _'Things will go better than alright and you will learn about it all, Blaine.'_ Carole is holding on to that hope, will not let go of it easy, no matter what this change, this challenge, is about to bring next. And she knows _'Things could go horribly wrong,'_ but that is not what she is focusing on, what she wants Blaine to have to think about right now, or ever, because, _'We will make it all work.'_

And so her eyes are open wide and full of reassurance, love.

And Blaine, he could not explain how, if someone asked, but her loving gaze alone, right here and now, fills him with trust he had not known he could ever feel again towards any adult in his life.

'_Together, they really want to do this, together, with me, they trust me.' _And how can a mind suddenly feel so much less heavy?

"Airi," Blaine almost shouts out of the blue, as his hands no longer trembling as hard keep petting the two dogs, one curled up in his lap, the other between his and Finn's legs on the carpet. "Airi and Aneira."

"And who is Airi?" Kurt asks with a bright smile that has Blaine as he looks at Kurt finally relax into Kurt's side completely, tense muscles finally truly unknotting.

His hand finds her blindly, the brownish husky pup on his lap, "She's Airi. And …," Blaine looks down to find the more black haired pup, simply pets her too, for a moment, before saying in a soft, adoring whisper, "And she, … she is Aneira."

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><p>AN:

Since I can imagine a lot of you will be wondering about the names Blaine came up with here a little something that I hope explains a little of what is going on in Blaine's head in these moments, or what I think is going on:

Airi- It is Japanese and means beloved jasmine. Here is why I chose it, it seemed like such a perfect choice for Blaine, for so many reasons: In aromatherapy, jasmine is thought to be an antidepressant and to promote relaxation while helping with fatigue and tension. The scent of the jasmine flower is most potent at night, when it releases its scent into the cooler night air. So very much about this speaks Blaine in this story to me, and I hope to you too:) Or maybe you think I am just being silly with this, that's fine too. I just hope you like both names.

And

Aneira - It is Welsh and means snow. Yes, simple as that, a husky called snow, but in a very sweet way I think, and I hope you share that view. To me it seems like such a Blaine thing to do.

I also found the sounds of both names very pleasing ones.

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><p>IMPORTANT: THE FUTURE OF THIS STORY<p>

So, I am fairly sure I will finish writing the story completely first and then, one hot summer day this year you will get the next update and then for a month or two daily updates until it is all posted.

How does that sound?

I think it will be much more comfortable for you to read that way and much better writing coming from me, more focused, I know I tend to get lost in describing emotions.

Or would you prefer the story to keep being update in the way I have the last year?

I have heard from a lot of you that you go back and reread old chapters, sometimes because you loved them so much, sometimes to get back into the story, and I don't want to put you through that over and over, for that second reason, I love the first one actually with all my heart.

This here seems like a good solution to me, but of course your opinion is very important to me, after all I write for me, yes, but also you guys. And you have given me the confidence to say: I think I can do it, write the story all by myself and then post it for you.

I will hear what you guys have to say, and then put what I am going to do (in about three weeks) right here

….

(So that you don't have to keep wondering about my decision, you can check back here about it at the end of March for sure, I will have made a definite decision by then).

I have so much awesome stuff in store for this story I wish I could share already. By the end of it, I reckon right now, it will be at least twice as long as it is now, yes, we are nowhere near the end, but I want to not drag it over another whole year but finish it of some time this summer. I hope these announcements are met with joy, not disappointment.

xo AweSoMeLAgain


	28. Unquiet Low Tide

**A/N: **It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life and a new chapter.

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><p><strong>hma1010<strong>: Thank you for being the one person to actually give me an answer as to how you would like the story to go on being published. I will see how the writing goes, and maybe from time to time publish a chapter, like I am doing now;), but then post the biggest part of it at once over a couple of weeks as you too thought it might be the better read that way. Thanks again for responding. It means a lot to me that someone did. That you did. Yeah, you were the only review for the whole chapter, which hurts because it makes me doubt so many choices I made for the chapter. I don't take it personal, as in people don't like me or anything, but it makes me feel like I did something wrong in my writing, and I had been so excited about that chapter, so that made it worse. I am telling you so you know how much your review actually meant to me. Thank you again!

**Guest (reviewing for chapter 25)**: Thank you for such detailed feedback. I had not realized at all I had misspelled cigarette otherwise I would have corrected it for sure, so thank you for pointing it out. I am not a native speaker of English, so I might make mistakes sometimes that seem really dumb of me, I apologize for that. The remarks about the past tense were interesting for me, I had no idea those expressions were out of place in that way, so that was actually great to learn. And of course I am excited to know that you overall enjoy my writing very much, odd mistakes and all. :)

**anonymous (reviewing for chapter 19)**: As you can see I am still going, if not all too strong at the moment, exam times in my academic life take their toll on writing, regrettably. I hope you have completely caught up with the story by now, and I am looking forward to many more reviews from you.

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

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><p><strong>28: Unquiet Low Tide <strong>

Blaine does not run at night anymore, but he starts going on runs with Finn, several times a week, and, a while later, … on long walks, alone.

Kurt is a terrified mess the first time Blaine announces he needs those solitary walks still, needs to "… try this, for myself, for my life to gain … stablility?" and walks out the front door twenty-nine minutes later. He leaves Kurt in Burt's care, having talked it through with Burt the day before.

A couple of days after the puppies have entered their lives and Carole has seen Blaine spending time with Aneira, Airi and Kurt smiling more than she has ever seen him smile before, she takes two shopping bags out of her storage cupboard upstairs.

It takes her until after dinner, standing in the kitchen cleaning the dishes together with Blaine, to find the courage to actually bring it up.

As she takes the last cleaned dish from Blaine's hands and dries it, she says, "Blaine, would you get Kurt, I think he is in the living room with Finn and his dad. I have something for the both of you."

"Okay," Blaine answers, and as Carole looks over she finds him biting his lower lip and frowning a little before he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

Carole puts away the last dish then walks out into the hall where she had placed the bags before dinner. When she comes back into the kitchen, one green shopping bag in each hand, Blaine and Kurt are already there, standing by the kitchen table Kurt holding Blaine's right hand reassuring in both of his.

Carole wastes no time, handing a bag to each boy, "So, when Burt and I were in Columbus we did get more than just art supplies for you. I didn't want to crush you with everything at once, so, yeah, um, I picked up some of the books from the list the doctor gave us, because I thought you might like reading them together?" Carole is looking at the floor, her hands clasped tightly, when she finishes, unsure, still, if this is not too much, if she has a right to just go and ….

Blaine's arms coming around her are a surprise, one of the best kind. "Thank you, Carole."

"It is really okay? I mean I didn't want to assume. But I want to help as much as I can …."

Blaine squeezes her tighter, "It's so much more than okay. Thank you, really."

Carole finally hugs back, "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say this."

And then they start reading. And it means new tears, waterfalls of them … for all sorts of reasons.

"_That's it, Kurt. How does a complete stranger get it so well? Get me like this!"_

"_What a pretentious dick. How can anyone think that is what someone is feeling in such a moment?"_

"_Kurt, … Kurt, I want it to stop hurting."_

"_Urgh, this is utter crap,this guy has no idea about anything."_

"_Wow, this … Kurt, that's it, that's why I always did … THAT."_

Reading alone though they quickly find out is not enough for either of them, not even with the other there to talk to, and Carole, who is reading every single book with them, so they can come talk to her if they need to.

So one day Kurt tells Blaine about an idea that he hopes will be helpful – an idea that will in the end indeed turn out to have changed the whole of Blaine's life. For the better?

It is after Blaine wakes up slightly shaky in Kurt's arms one morning that Kurt dares to bring it up, "Blaine?"

"Mmh?" Blaine is still sleepy, and cuddling close to Kurt, maybe it is that, that has Kurt a little braver than on all the days before that he has felt the urge but not dared to bring up … "Blaine, your mom, I think we should go looking for her."

Kurt can feel Blaine shrink in his arms, curling up on himself, only then does he get to hear the small, timid, "What? Why?"

"Baby," Kurt says pulling Blaine closer to his bare chest, and Blaine allows himself to disappear in that intense warmth of skin on skin, melt into it for a moment. "You are still having nightmares."

"I do," Blaine confirms, fingers of Blaine's left hand on Kurt's chest now tracing small, intricate shapes, to distract Kurt, or to comfort himself, Kurt does not know, although he suspects the latter, knowing how much drawing is a reflex to Blaine, whenever his mind is pushed and Blaine scared everything inside him might unhinge again.

"You told me you don't know what happened to her, and … and I think … you need to know, I think you feel like you need to know. The question is," Kurt pauses to place a kiss of comfort into Blaine's curls as he can feel the pressure of Blaine's fingers swirling on his chest increasing, knowing it means Blaine is getting more and more upset, "Do you want to …try and find out now. Or do you want to wait?"

Kurt's question is met with only silence.

"We can wait," Kurt adds quietly when the silence holds out. "I am sorry I brought it up."

"No," he hears Blaine breath out weakly, "No, don't be sorry, please. I know you are only trying to help me. It's all you have ever done."

"I just thought, Baby, that … with those nightmares, … I will hold you forever if it keeps them at bay, … I just wish you, I wish you wouldn't have to have them anymore at all."

There is another silence, then Blaine's hand stills on Kurt's chest completely, and Kurt can feel Blaine letting out a stuttering, deep breath in his arms. "I … what if they become worse once I know what really happened? What if … if it makes me not want to be anymore at all, again?"

Kurt is the one lying there mouth agape now, breath painfully held in, he is not prepared for this nor the more that is sure to come with the utterance of that one little word, changing everything, _'…again.'_ Kurt's insides twist hard at the thought.

"I … I have tried before, Kurt," Blaine chokes out, no tears or sob accompanying the dry, harsh sound.

Kurt thinks Blaine wants to tell him where those deep cuts on his wrists come from. The ones he had felt such a long seeming time ago, one night, for the first time.

Kurt is so wrong.

"I took … I took pills, handfuls. But I was stupid enough to down them with almost a whole bottle of vodka, so I threw it all back up before anything could happen."

"Blaine."

"I know, stupid," Blaine whispers, misinterpreting Kurt's broken tone.

Kurt tenderly cups both of Blaine's cheeks in his hands and waits for Blaine to meet his eyes, when he, several deep breaths later does, "… not stupid, gosh, Blaine, you weren't being stupid. You were hurting. I'm just so … I'm so sorry we didn't find each other earlier."

Blaine scurries up the bed until he is face to face with Kurt, kisses him urgently then buries his face in the crook of Kurt's neck, his whole body winding around Kurt's, Kurt hugging back as hard as he can, crying now.

"You are here now," Blaine says insistently, and Kurt nods wildly as tears keep hitting Blaine's bare back. "You are here now and …, and I'm here, and it's okay. It's okay. It's okay."

And Kurt knows Blaine is no longer talking to him, is talking to himself now as he keeps repeating these three words.

"It's okay," Kurt takes over for him as Blaine's throat closes up and Blaine a moment later releases all those unshed tears, held in for what feels much longer than those moments since they started talking today, held in for what have been years combined building up to a time spanning over a decade.

Somehow they fall back to sleep.

When Kurt wakes up again … he is alone under the sheets.


	29. Keen Senses

**A/N: **I tried to stay away, but of course as soon as I had decided to put this story on ice all I could think of anymore was writing it, and I realized all over how substantial creative writing is to my mental well-being. **From now on there will be at least monthly updates on the 17****th**** of each month. **My dream is to have this story completed latest by the end of January 2014 and to then move on to finish Tears Stained (in case you are reading that too).

I hope this chapter does not feel insensitive in any way, I wrote it a long time ago now, we are talking months, and there is some Finn in here, so if you don't feel ready to read it I completely understand.

M

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**29: Keen Senses**

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><p>Kurt finds Blaine sitting curled up on himself at the foot of the bed.<p>

Blaine is hugging a big pillow tightly to his chest and smiling with relief when Kurt's eyes meet his.

"Hey," Blaine says weakly.

"Hey. Baby, you had me scared there for a moment."

"Even though I don't run anymore?" Blaine tries to smile with eyes, voice and lips.

"Even though you don't just run anymore," Kurt confirms, eyes warm but gaze serious. "Come back here, Baby," Kurt says softly, holding his arms wide open.

As Blaine does crawl back up the bed and allows Kurt to hug him close once more Blaine hears Kurt ask, "Why were you at the foot of the bed?"

"Needed to think, is all" Blaine whispers shyly.

And when he does Kurt knows now is not the time to push. So he simply hums warmly and starts peppering Blaine's shoulder, neck, then face with kisses until he, reaching Blaine's lips, can feel him smiling against his own. "Ready for breakfast?"

Blaine nods, they each pull on a shirt and make, still wearing their pajama pants, their way downstairs.

Finn is the only one too in the kitchen when they get there. He grunts a greeting at them through his mouth still stuffed with cereal.

They grab some fruit and oatmeal, pour some juice and water for the two of them, and then make their way into the backyard. It has become their little tradition, the last weeks, picnic blanket and Kurt's favorite quilt easily at hand every morning, always now to be found in a corner of the living room to just pick up when they pass by, breakfast in the backyard, lunch too sometimes, the fresh air easing the way into a new day, wanting to be braved; that is how the boys feel, anyway.

The cool fresh air is definitely helping Blaine to get his head clearer, he feels, and had once even confessed so to Kurt, adding _"… and, especially, to get it clear again, after … after one of the worse nights, … nightmares." _ Kurt had cuddled closer in understanding, filling the silence between the two of them with warm touches instead of empty feeling, trite words.

Sometimes they don't talk at all, for hours and hours, long until after lunch.

Those hours can be the most torturous to Kurt of all the days, especially when they have not woken up cuddling happily, Kurt having been ripped instead from his sleep by Blaine shaking in his arms.

The feeling of utter helplessness some days it is the hardest on Kurt.

When the breakfast foods and drinks are gone, they just lie with each other, cuddled up on a blanket, under the quilt.

Kurt is about to doze off, when he hears Blaine say quietly into his chest, "How would we do that? Look for her."

Kurt takes a deep breath and – running his left hand up and down Blaine's back, his right finding Blaine's, and tangling their fingers comfortingly – says, "Have you ever looked for her before?"

Kurt can feel Blaine shaking his head, hears a whispered, all too guilty sounding "No," fall from Blaine's lips.

"I was thinking we could try and find her on the internet, or someone who knows or at least knew her at some point. How does that sound?"

Kurt's left hand is still moving when he feels Blaine squeezing Kurt's hand tangled with his extra tight as the words leave his mouth after a shaky breath, "Yeah. I want to, let us try."

The next afternoon Blaine spends immersed in his drawing, Kurt, making sure Carole is already home, makes his way into his old school.

It is strange how much more this feels like spying, how much more Kurt feels out of place here right now than he ever had in the hallways of Dalton.

It is when he takes the last corner into the corridor that holds the door leading to the room and he hopes the person he has been looking for, when he catches sight of the one person he most certainly feels he can live without ever having to run into again this unsuspected.

Kurt knows it is a phantom pain, nothing more, it hurts nonetheless as if the metal of a locker door is anew, right in this second, digging into the skin, the now scar, under his left shoulder blade, once so brutally ripped, bone underneath bruised, parts of Kurt, much deeper, still aching from it today.

It is a whisper, already pressed back with Kurt's next breath, "Karofsky."

But just as fast as the jock had entered Kurt's field of vision he has left it, Kurt spared more than the sight of the back of Dave's head today.

Kurt leans against the wall, eyes closing for a moment, breathing shaken evening out again.

Two minutes later, Kurt's steps are still shaky, his hand trembling annoyingly much as he reaches for the door handle, and pushes it down.

"Listen Puckerman, I told you not to ever interrupt my work in here."

"Hi, … Lauren."

"Hummel?" Lauren turns around, eyes wide as she finds Kurt actually standing in the door to the school's media room. "What's up? Puckerman said you weren't ever coming back. Looked like a kicked puppy too saying it. I'd to hold him a whole afternoon while he cried his heart out, the weekend you transferred, mumbling something about juvie and failing you. So, what's up?"

Kurt smiles to himself, he had always liked how down to business Lauren tends to be, private matters staying just that, private, but even she has obviously missed him a bit if she is trying this hard to make Kurt feel welcome, oh yeah, this is Lauren trying … real hard. "I need your expertise."

"Okay? Which parts of my vast array of knowledge do you require, Hummel? And more importantly, what are you willing to pay for it?"

"I can pay you 20 Mars bars, and two big bags of Skittles. I got them right here with me," Kurt pads his backpacked stuffed to them brim with the sugary treats.

"Deal. And what do you need?"

Kurt takes a deep breath, then says, "I need to know which sides best to use to find someone."

"Stalking a crush are we?"

"Now you sound like Santana, and no, I am not. A friend is looking for a long lost family member, and I am trying to help. I won't say any more, so don't bother asking again."

"Okay, okay. So, to maximize your chances of …," Lauren stops dead. "Payment first."

Kurt rolls his eyes but is quick to unpack the sweats onto the table, scattered with old videotapes and some cds and dvds.

Lauren, grinning already in excitement goes on, while opening up her laptop and googleing the first page, "Okay, so …."

Kurt spends a good two hours and twenty-three minutes in that room, but leaves it much more confident and informed than he went in, and with a stack of notes and an even more informative recent browser history on his laptop - leaving, too, an already happily on her third mars bar munching Lauren behind.

He cannot help looking over his shoulder with every other step he takes until he is back, safely, in his car.

Kurt closes his eyes and breathes deep for the first time since, it feels, he had entered the all too eerily familiar building.

The harsh knock on his window a moment later rips him from his just about tranquil turning thoughts harshly.

"Finn!" Kurt breathes out, heart still racing.

"Dude, what are you doing here? If Karofsky …."

"I'm fine," Kurt assures smiling softly, as Finn slips into the passanger seat.

"Can you give me a ride home? Rachel offered to, yesterday, but then …."

"You two got into a fight today?" Kurt asks knowingly, it happens after all, all the time.

"Something like that. So, you taking me?"

"Sure," Kurt smiles, already starting the car.

Kurt does not see the boy in the letterman jacket walking down the stairs of the main building, frowning with sadness in his eyes as he catches a glimpse of the boy behind the steering wheel.


	30. Who knew

**A/N: **Thank you so much to _butterflyrain23, TotesMcGotes, hma1010, amanda, slytherdore _and _Guest_ for reviewing on the previous chapter with nothing but kind words, excitement and encouragements. And yes, your eyes are not deceiving you, I got around to an early update, the next will be latest as promised on the 17th of this month.

M

* * *

><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**30: Who knew …**

* * *

><p>Setting up the pages online, which seem most promising in their search for Blaine's mother, is easy after Kurt has talked to Lauren.<p>

Kurt does not tell Blaine he went to McKinley, thinking his instincts to be true, _'Blaine does not need to know, does not need the extra stress that knowledge would bring.'_

It takes about three weeks until they receive more than messages from people who email to say they once went to school with Blaine's mom. It is all the information they get from them, together with requests saying they lost all touch a long time ago and if _they_ could let them know if they find her. But some also promise to forward these sides and their messages to people they still know from that time … to at least try and help.

It seems to be working too, since only a couple of days later the first messages arrive including scans of old high school pictures.

And just like that Blaine has a face to look at.

It is one not really matching his memories, but they had been made up of blurred snapshots of a woman, not a girl fifteen with a camera around her neck, in a picture of the photography club one year. The scans are all black and white, or maybe all the pictures were in the first place, either way Blaine cannot help wishing he could just once see the color of his mother's eyes, unsure himself why this feels so important to him, but it just does, and the urge to know more won't cease.

One Thursday morning there is a message from a C. Bright, and maybe it is good it comes only after all these weeks of being able to take in the pictures sent.

Kurt is afraid with every message they open together that what hides between the harmless looking letters will be too much … of something.

Kurt thinks he might slowly be developing a serious anxiety disorder, the way his heart races every time a new message shows, and it is no wonder really, with Blaine these last weeks waking in Kurt's arms again in sweat, shaking and stumbling moments later to the bathroom, throwing up.

Kurt talks to Carole about Blaine's anxieties, but not his own.

Kurt finds himself in Carole's arms being hugged tightly more often the next days, and it feels good and right, important, but Kurt is afraid to say even that much, hopes Carole knows.

Carole is afraid to overstep, to crush her step-son with the to him so foreign affection of a mother.

She tries to talk to Blaine too though, and he even shows her the pictures of his mom, but he cannot bring himself to do much more.

"C. Bright," Kurt whispers, "Does that mean anything to you?"

"No," Blaine whispers back and cuddles deeper into Kurt's side, as they sit together in front of the open laptop on their bedcovers that morning. Blaine clicks to open the message the full name showing now.

"Casander Bright," Kurt says slowly, a deep frown forming on his forehead.

Burt and Carole had insisted the boys be careful using the internet trying and contact people, _"You never know who really is on the other end."_ They had asked the boys to set up the pages and profiles under the pretense of Kurt researching the lives of former high school students, but using Burt's name.

So far no one has offered more than a handful of scanned year book pages and school anecdotes, half-truths - probably no more. So Casander Bright's messages is a big surprise to Kurt and Blaine.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Mr. Hummel,<em>

_I have some old materials on me, which are too extensive to simply scan, and I happen to be in the States from next Monday on. I have several days free still and was wondering whether you would be interested in conducting a brief interview with me, as I feel this would be most beneficial for your research work._

_Best wishes,_

_Casander Bright _

* * *

><p>That night they sit around the kitchen table, trying to explain to Burt and Carole how much Blaine feels he needs to try and meet up with Mr. Bright.<p>

Burt frowns when he reads the message. "Guys, I … you have both no idea who this really is, I can't just let you go meet up with a total stranger."

Kurt and Blaine's protests are weak, half-hearted. They both know Burt is right.

But Burt himself knows something too; Blaine cannot just forget about this message, and might regret forever not getting this chance, so Burt comes up with a compromise. "Honey, would you mind the four of us taking a day trip to Columbus to meet up with this person next week?"

Carole smiles at Burt's resolve to be there for the boys, "Not at all."

"Really, Dad?"

"Burt" Blaine chokes out, tears rising into his eyes, "… you would do that for me?"

"Kid, of course we will," Burt replies with a warm smile. Burt is not prepared for Blaine suddenly standing by his side and hugging the life out of him.

"Thank you. Thank you SO MUCH!"

"It's okay, Kid," he replies softly, hugging already back.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," Blaine whispers burying his face in Burt's shoulder.

"It's no big deal, Kid," Burt reassures.

"Caring," Blaine replies, swallowing hard as he keeps hugging Burt, "… it's everything."

"Oh, Honey," Carole says getting up and reaching over to affectionately ruffle Blaine's hair. She is rewarded with a bright smile making itself a home on Blaine's lips.

Kurt is smiling as well, most of all because he has never seen his boyfriend look this happy around other people, this relaxed and content in someone else's arms. And Kurt just knows, instinctively, _'This is huge!' _

Once they contact Mr. Bright the meeting is arranged quickly and without any further complications.

Blaine is jittery the last days before it, but the nights are actually okay, quiet, no new nightmares. Kurt suspects it is the excitement for possible, real answers during his waking hours wearing his boyfriend out and actually granting him a good and deep night's sleep, several days over.

The morning of the meeting Blaine cannot get down any breakfast, not even his favorite, pancakes and fruit salad, that Kurt and Burt especially make for him.

"I'll eat some later, I promise, I just can't right now," he whispers in apology to his new family.

"It's fine, Sweety," Carole says. "We get you're nervous."

Blaine just sits there nodding, and it is the last visible reaction to anything they can coax out of him until they get out of the car in a dinner's parking lot in Columbus several hours later, the agreed on meeting place.

Blaine takes a deep breath before, one hand intertwined with Kurt's, he reaches with his other for the handle of the door leading to something … still unknown, still scary, right now.

It is the hope that all fear will finally give way to new knowledge that keeps Blaine moving, despite the heaviness he can feel spreading through all of his limbs with every step closer to … something old and something new.


	31. Framed

**A/N: **

A BIG THANK YOU to _TotesMcGotes_ and _slytherdore _for letting me know their thoughts. I cannot wait to hear how you feel about the new chapter, I always love reading your reviews, guys! So again Thanks so much!

This chapter is a lot to take in, I think. I hope with so many questions open it does still read well and as something complete in itself as the "first" encounter it is.

I heard some marvelously intriguing guesses as to who Casander Bright might be, I would love to learn from more of you who you expected, and if it indeed was who it turned out to be. And of course I hope you are happy with my choice in the matter.

* * *

><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**31: Framed**

They are only a couple of steps into the diner when – everyone looking around to try and spot Casander Bright – Blaine's feet stop moving.

Kurt's gaze questioning and somewhat worried he follows Blaine's jerky, nervous nod towards a table in a far off corner by one of the large windows.

A tall brown haired man is sitting at it, a big stack of papers, some picture books maybe by the looks of it, are stacked in front of him on the wooden surface. The young man's hands are neatly folded on one of his knees, one resting on the other, and even though Kurt can only see the back of his head, the man looking out of the window all the while, Kurt feels certain there is a little frown to be found on the man's forehead right now, the pensive posture of his body giving it all away.

Kurt has no idea why, but the man reminds him somehow of Blaine, the way he holds himself saying so much … without a single word.

"Is that him?" Carole asks quietly as she too follows Blaine's gesture.

"I don't know," Blaine admits, but somehow still drawn to the man starts walking again.

When all four of them are standing at the small table, the man still watching the world outside these walls holding them, Blaine pries open his mouth twice, it shuts over and over without any sounds making their way out.

Blaine closes his eyes, his head hanging in frustration and Kurt knows what is running through his boyfriend's head.

'_How am I supposed to get through this if I can't even start this conversation?' _The thought holds more pain than frustration for Blaine, mostly at the feeling of his own inability to reach … for anything, even when he wants it as badly as he does want to learn more about his mother.

With a kiss to Blaine's temple that has Blaine looking back up and over at Kurt, who smiles softly at him, Kurt in the next moment clears his throat, still holding Blaine's gaze for a moment more, before turning to the man by the window, "Excuse me?"

As soon as the man turns to face them all Blaine can focus on are those eyes, there is something so eerily familiar about them. Blaine is torn between not being able to look at the man at all, and not being able to look away, try as he might, his eyes quick motions feeling so jerky he is already starting to feel dizzy.

Kurt's grip on Blaine's hand tightens as he whispers, pulling Blaine into a hug, "Wow, wow, wow, shhh, it's okay, calm down, Love."

The man at the table is looking at them in bewilderment, his voice strong but apart from confused still friendly when he asks, "Can I help you?"

"We hope so," Burt steps in, "Mr. Bright?"

"Yes," his smile is sudden and instantly wide, his posture a little stiffer though now, as if he too is somewhat apprehensive of this encounter.

When he stands up he is already mumbling in an adorable way Blaine does too, and Kurt has too smile fondly as he can feel Blaine peeking out form in between Kurt's arms, clearly having been hit by the same feeling of familiarity.

Blaine just stands watching as the man, pushing his glasses, for a moment slightly askew on his nose, back into place, "So sorry, I'm so sorry, I had not expected such a large party. Otherwise I would have picked a larger table."

Burt is standing there with a smile, holding out his hand, clearly as endeared by the man's soft, bookish disposition as Kurt and Blaine are intrigued. "No worries," Burt says, shaking the man's hand with vigor, "There're plenty of bigger tables free." He adds as an afterthought, "Burt Hummel."

"Oh," Mr. Bright says, straightening his body, papers and books now in his arms. Mr. Bright throws a brief welcoming glance to the rest of the group. One of the boys he cannot help notice, is still clinging to the other, gaze ducked away in the taller boy's cardigan.

"Oh?" Burt asks, still smiling.

"No, I mean, I just … I was under the impression this was a genealogy type of project someone was doing for college or maybe high school? Not that you could not be in College, Mr. Hummel. Just from the messages I got, …, gee, I sound like such a creep, the person sounded younger. Not that it matters," Mr. Bright hastens to add nervously.

"Let's sit down and order something to drink and eat and then we can talk it all out, alright?" Carole says, before any sort of discussion can get on the way with them, all at least somewhat jittery, standing in the middle of a diner, Mr. Bright holding the heavy looking stack of documents.

"Yes, gladly," Mr. Bright smiles at her, "Mrs. Hummel."

"Carole is fine, Mr. Bright," she replies with a smile of her own.

"Casander," Mr. Bright offers.

"Casander," Carole repeats still smiling at the young man. And she cannot help the thought, _'He does not look old enough to have been out of College a long time himself.'_

Blaine watches on, carefully, full of hesitation and doubt. The fear is staying at the back of his mind for the moment, pushed there with Kurt's help, held there with the strong hold of his boyfriend's hand, still there even when they have settled down and their drinks have arrived. The time between now and then filled with small talk, made by the adults.

"So you are British?" Kurt asks, drawing the eyes of Casander Bright for the first time fully on himself and by association … Blaine, who had felt so well hidden in the group until now, bigger than Mr. Bright had expected to encounter today.

"Actually, I was born in the States," Mr. Bright replies with a smile.

"But your accent is British, right?" Kurt keeps digging.

"Yes, well, I have lived there for quite some time."

"So how did you know Zadie Taylor?" Kurt asks next.

"Kurt," Burt interrupts in a tone that Kurt knows all too well as a half warning, the tone his dad always carries in his voice when Kurt is reaching for the fifth cardigan to buy out of sheer necessity for the ability to appropriately color block for a season, of course. There is method to his slight bursts of madness after all.

"No, no it's fine. I guess the interview I promised you," Casander looks over at Burt, "… has started."

"Promised us, actually," Kurt replies, lifting his hand still linked with Blaine's onto the table, his thumb running in gentle reassurance along Blaine's skin.

Blaine does not know how he feels about this, although he knows perfectly well what Kurt is doing … trying to get a reaction out of the stranger that will tell them if they will want to trust him at all. Blaine too knows exactly what Kurt is thinking, and he has to smile at his boyfriend's resolve.

'_No point wasting your time with a homophobic dick.'_ What is, after all the point of freedom if you do not make the biggest possible use of it?

And so Blaine holds his breath waiting for the man's reaction, answer, … anything.

Casander looks up from their linked hands and smiles at the two boys, for the first time taking in the smaller, curly haired boy's face fully, and his smile falters only just for a second, before it is back fully, "Please tell me I was talking to you and your boyfriend all along online, otherwise I might start doubting my own sanity, because those brief emails we exchanged, I am sorry, " he directs at Burt cautiously, "did absolutely not sound like a middle aged man living in Ohio of all places."

Blaine lets out a brief relived huff and smiles to himself, as he hears Mr. Bright's words, followed by a full-hearted laugh from Kurt.

When he lifts his head again, still a small smile on his lips for a moment before he starts biting his lower lip nervously, he finds Mr. Bright's eyes twinkling with warmth. Blaine cannot explain the resounding sense of familiarity he feels.

It takes a harsh intake of breath for Blaine before he can bring out the words stuck in his throat until then in a rush of air, "My mom, did you know her?"

Casander's eyes widen almost comically as the realization hits him, his expression filled with as much worry as doubt, as he stutters out, "Blaine?"

"Yeah," Blaine chokes out, his grip deadly tight on Kurt's hand as he himself tries to piece things together. _'How does this man know me?'_ But there are too many parts still missing, it is an impossible puzzle to solve.

Kurt watches the man sitting - opposite him, Blaine and Carole - next to Burt. His whole body is stock-still, apart from his hands resting on the table twitching as if he wants to reach out, keeps himself from actually doing so. In a mere moment the man has slumped back in his seat and is taking of his glasses, frantically wiping at his eyes.

"Casander?" Carole asks, worried about the man so clearly in distress.

"Cooper," Mr. Bright replies.

"Sorry?" Burt asks.

"Casander Bright is my stage name when I perform in England with The Royal Shakespeare Company and other theatre groups. Cooper Anderson does not exactly sound like a serious artist, does it?"

Cooper watches as Burt's eyes harden on him, notices, out of the corner of his eye, how Kurt and Carole both move closer to Blaine – the boys' linked hands long having disappeared from the table top again – _'…to protect him. Who do they think I am?' _

Blaine is the one to break the silence, voice wet with tears held back so far, now brimming over, the desperation in the boy's voice is unmistakable when he asks, voice raised, "Who are you? Did my dad send you to mess with my head? Did he hire you to take me away from my family?"

Cooper can do nothing more than just sit there, for a long seeming moment, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape before he finds words to say what he needs to, "They told me you were dead, … you were both dead." Seeing only the more of confusion on Blaine's face, Cooper digs into the stack of papers and brings forth a …

"… a family portrait?" Burt asks, frown deep on his forehead, the older man, although shorter than Cooper, still towering over him in his seat.

Cooper can only reply with a nod to Burt's inquiry, before he places the photograph in front of Blaine.

Blaine tries to push the photograph away, instantly, one glimpse of this younger version of the man who he only ever knew as his abuser too much.

Cooper must have caught up to that, picking up the photo and swiftly folding it in almost half, before placing it once more on the table. "Blaine? Please, … look!"

But Blaine cannot, instead fighting the urge to get up and put as much distance between this man and himself, and everything he stands for, burying himself in Kurt's arms, shaking his head over and over.

"Give him a moment, please. Let him breath for a while," Carole says softly into the tense silence stretching.

Cooper feels himself about to burst into tears, the knowledge his brother had escaped the cruelty Cooper knew his step-father, Blaine's father, to be capable off shattered once and for all replaced by a single, torturing thought, _'What did he do to you?'_

When Blaine's hand stops moving in steadying swirls over the fabric of Kurt's shirt and cardigan, unable to reach the warmth of Kurt's skin he so longs for, and the shaking of Blaine's frame lessens, Kurt asks, caressing his boyfriend's sunken form tenderly, wherever he can reach, and now staring at the photograph on the table over Blaine's shoulder intently, "Want me to describe what I see?"

Kurt can feel Blaine's hesitation in the absolute stillness trapping his body for a moment so he adds, "I will stop whenever you need me to. I promise, Love. I promise."

If there is one thing Blaine trusts it is that Kurt does not break promises, so he finds himself nodding into the warmth held between his and Kurt's body huddled so very close.

"I see a woman, with curly hair, like yours, in a pixie cut. Your mom I think, you can tell form the yearbook pictures we saw." Kurt says quietly. He goes on as he feels Blaine nod. "And there is a baby in her arms and towards the centre of the photograph there is a boy, maybe ten years old. He's standing next to her, leaning into her side, away from …." Kurt breaks of, he knows Blaine does not need … cannot bear to hear the words, but the thought is already in Kurt's mind, lingers torturously, Kurt biting his lip not to utter the words, '… your father.'

Blaine does not reemerge from Kurt's hold, says into his boyfriend's chest as loud as he can muster those words again, this time needing to hear the answer so much his breathing stops completely as he listens for it after choking out, "Who are you?"

"Zadie Taylor, she was … is my mom too, Blaine," Cooper brings out.

Blaine emerges hiccupping from Kurt's embrace a second after the words are out of Cooper's mouth. And Kurt can hear how much more hurt he sounds than angry, "But how? How would I not know that I have a brother? Why weren't you there? Where is mom? I don't unundehrstahnd?"

"Blaine. Blaine, please listen, …," Cooper says reaching out to take Blaine's hands in his, but Blaine jerks back at first touch.


	32. Strangers

**A/N: **Thank you once again to everyone who reviewed, it is a pleasure talking to you wonderful people!

Love, M

* * *

><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**32: Strangers**

* * *

><p>"Blaine, I …," Cooper brings out, voice hoarse and throat suddenly sandpaper dry. But he knows, Cooper knows, he cannot put it off, <em>'Not this.'<em> They need to be honest with each other, he needs to be honest with Blaine from the get go if this is ever going to work, so he breathes in and says, "I don't know where mom is. If anything, meeting you just now, I had dared to hope you would. … but … you don't."

Blaine shakes his head in despair more than answer, still not reaching for the hands Cooper keeps offering unfaltering.

Heavy-hearted Cooper goes on, knowing full well how implausible, downright impossible in parts this is all going to sound, fearing, above everything, that Blaine will not feel able to give Cooper a chance to actually talk this out, "They told me you both had died. I was at boarding school in England then. I was thirteen when I got the call from my step-father, your father. He already hated me, I suspect he always had. I thought it was because I wasn't his, you know?" Cooper looks searchingly to Burt and Carole for a moment before lowering his gaze. "He had the money, so as soon as our mom had married him he made her send me away. That day when he called … he didn't want to talk to me at all, didn't care about giving me any explanation. It was like, _'Here's the thing, your family is dead, have a nice life.'_"

Blaine looks back at Cooper at that, in pain and shock and disbelief maybe most of all.

"I know it is no excuse, I know there can never be any excuse for me not fighting harder to get more ..., to get the truth out of him. But why would anyone ever lie about something like that?" Cooper adds running both hands through his hair, head dropping into them. "I just could not imagine anyone could ever lie about such a thing. He said you and mom both were dead …. I am so very sorry I believed him anything. He had only ever pretended to care about me … ever. I had hoped maybe with you … you being his own he would …." Cooper shakes his head at himself, "I should have known better, so much better. I should have … I should have …," Cooper in tears breaks off, a moment later feeling a hand taking one of his. The tentative but hope-filled smile comes so easy when he looks up and finds "Blaine?" holding his hand.

The boy opposite Cooper tries so hard to reassure with a squeeze of his hand, warm, and an attempt at a smile that looks so uncertain it breaks Cooper all over inside.

It is the tragically ironic side of pain surfacing here and now where the brothers meet, it can take everything, but … it can also connect.

Blaine might not remember himself any of what Cooper just tried to put into words, but he remembers being thirteen, being all alone and thirteen and scared out of his mind. Blaine knows helplessness, … he, Blaine does not know the world Cooper lived in then, but he can imagine, he can imagine all too well sometimes.

"The last time I saw you was the summer that year. You were two years old, Blaine."

"I don't remember you," Blaine sobs out holding on to his brother's hand tighter. "Why can't I remember you? Why can't I remember anything that's not …, that …? I can't even remember mom, … not really. All I have is …," Blaine chokes out the last words, retracting his hand from Cooper's to wipe at his blotchy face with both his hands.

Cooper knows, because he might have been a kid himself when his mother, their mother married Blaine's father, but he was old enough to remember now, … remember a whole lot of things, among them "…your father." Try as he might, Cooper cannot keep the pain running deep still after all this time out of his words. "He is not all you have. He's not!"

Blaine just sits there, arms hanging at his sides, gaze downcast, the only movement visible his eyes blinking, his tears falling from them and Kurt running the fingertips of one hand gently through Blaine's hair, along his right temple, causing Blaine to slightly tilt into the soft touch. _'How can you forget how to stop crying?'_ Blaine feels like he has.

"I remember him too, Blaine," Cooper tries softly.

"Not like I have to," Blaine chokes out.

"No, B. No, not like you at all. But, B, I know …, I know what he used to do …." And then Cooper is crying the hardest he has yet, "I am so sorry I left you alone with him. I'm so sorry. I didn't know, B. If I had …. Granma told me after I came back to England that summer that she wanted to take you and mom away from him. And Blaine, I was nothing but unhappy without the two of you in England, for so long. And losing you forever, what I thought was forever …."

"I have a grandmother?" Blaine looks up, eyes something alike to hopeful for the first time in all of this, hands reaching for Kurt's, for hold he can trust without question, one of Carole's hands steadying on his back, tangible warmth, hold, unconditional love, the kind he is only just now getting to know.

"She is yours just as much as she is mine. Technically she is my dad's mom, but she was like a mom to our mom for all the time they knew each other. There is no way she feels different about you than she does about me," Cooper smiles through his tears at him. "She always wanted you and mom back in her life, but your dad wouldn't allow it. He said she had no right to be in either of your lives. With her and me living in England everything was so difficult to figure out, but she fought for you two, so hard, B."

Blaine reaches, is clinging tightly to Kurt again a moment later. Kurt's arms warming and secure around him in seconds.

"Oh, B," Cooper says through his tears. He does not say anything about the sleeve he sees ride up for a moment, as Blaine reaches for Kurt, nor about the marred skin it reveals, suggesting things Cooper cannot even begin to think about right now. But if anything it strengthens Cooper's reslove, "B, please, can I stay for a while? So we can talk about all this. Really talk. I can't possibly explain it all in just a few minutes more here."

"We don't live right here in the city," Burt is the one to take over. His heart is racing with worries and uncertainties. "We're from …" Burt hesitates to give out the information, even with how utterly unthreatening Cooper appeares so far, "… Lima."

Trust is a hard concept these days, not just to Blaine.

"Can I come to Lima, please? I could check into a hotel, and … I can … I can cancel the next month's theatre tour I was on on the East Coast. My understudy will be very happy to finally get a chance to actually get out there on the stage. And then we'll have some time, B. Please say yes. Could we have some time together to try and … and figure things out?" Cooper is by no means rich … or famous, not outside the theatre world anyway, and certainly not internationally, but he has been working hard the last years and can afford to take some time off. "I cannot lose you again." What Cooper is not saying but he is bursting with is _'I cannot abandon you again! I can't! Please don't make me. Please!'_ And for once it seems an advantage in his life that in the business of acting there is always someone waiting, overly keen, to take your place. "B?"

"Did she call me that too? Mom?" Blaine asks looking over at Cooper. "Did she call me B?"

And just like that, with one simple question, for the first time Cooper gets an idea of what it is that Blaine has been deprived of most, having to grow up alone with a father who _'… did not know love or how to show it,'_ Cooper is a part of Blaine that has been taken from him, and Cooper feels so proud of Blaine for fighting to get it back, and more. "She did," Cooper nods, wiping away his tears and trying his hardest to look warm and reassuring. He hates how much it must help Blaine to trust him that technically they are only half-brothers, how such a small thing can be so crucial. _'The right half though_,' Cooper thinks, _'The one with too much heart, maybe,'_ but certaily not too little.

"Burt? Carole?" Blaine looks at them questioningly, and they both know what he is asking without having to inquire any further.

Carole hugs him tight, after exchanging a brief look with her husband, "It's up to you, Sweety. You decide if you want him to stay. We're here for you, and one of us can always come along to go see him if you don't feel like you can do it alone. In fact, Blaine, Sweety, I hope you understand that I won't let you go see him alone for quite some time. He needs to earn your and our trust, just showing up like is cannot be enough, you need to remember that, Sweety. Whatever happens from here on out, Blaine, you won't be doing this alone, you will never have to do this alone. Unless that is what you'll want one of these days. Alright?"

Blaine nods into her tight hug, then stills for a moment before looking back at Cooper saying, "Okay. I want to try to get to know you. Please."

Blaine for the first time really takes in his brother's smile, happy, bright at hearing Blaine's words. And something about it has the beginning of a smile forming on Blaine's lips too, even though much more hesitant, broken in every line of his lips, but still, unmistakably there. Blaine can feel it.

"We could maybe give you a lift to Lima?" Burt offers. "Or do you have a rental car here?"

"No, no I don't."

"Well, then …?" Burt asks.

"Thank you so much, but ..." Cooper says hesitantly, because a single look at Blaine has him doubt,… and fear, fear he might be pushing his baby brother's limits too far already, and that is the last thing he wants. "But Blaine, would that be okay with you? I don't …, the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable or hurt you, in any way. I never expected to meet you here today, never, not ever. I came here thinking maybe I could find out more about what really happened to you and mom. I lost her when I lost you. Your … your dad didn't tell me anything, … and he told grandma Maggie, her name is Maggie, to leave him alone and to never contact him again as well. What I'm trying to say is, I know my head is still swimming, and … it must be so much worse for you. You never even knew … knew anything at all about me. If you need some days away from me altogether I will stay here in the city and wait for your call to come and see you in Lima."

Blaine is gripping Kurt's hand so hard Kurt is sure Blaine's fingertips will be imprinted in his skin by bruises for days. "Blaine?"

Blaine looks down at their hands and instantly loosens his grip, retracting his hands completely a split-second later, and scoots away from Kurt, face broken in pain, "Kurt, … I'm so sorry."

But Kurt moves after him almost instantly, "Love, no, NO, it's okay. It's okay. Don't run from me. Please don't run. It's me, only me," he repeats, reaching up to gently cup Blaine's cheek with one hand. Then Kurt reaches, hand still caressing Blaine's skin, with his other hand for Cooper, finding his left forearm, and squeezing it reassuringly as he asks Blaine, "If you want him to come with us today, how about Carole rides in the back with you and me, and dad and Cooper ride in the front of the car. Sound okay?" Kurt knows how hard closed off spaces can still be for Blaine, especially with strangers intruding into them. Elevators have been a no go area ever since that night Blaine had first disappeared and returned and Carole had had her first inkling. What Kurt does not know is how Cooper could possibly understand any of this, if all he claims to be is true, if he has not seen Blaine in almost thirteen years. He seems to do though, understand part of it at least. And that more than unsettles the boy, it scares Kurt, Cooper's earlier words still ringing in Kurt's ears, _"B, I know what he used to do."_

Cooper watches as Blaine nuzzles deeper into the touch of his boyfriend's hand before swallowing hard once and then nodding, whispering, "Okay. Yes," to Kurt alone, the unspoken, _'With you there I can make it,'_ hanging in the air.

When every muscle in your body, every fiber in your brain is begging you to run, get the fuck out of here … how do you not get up, get out, get away, … run?

Anchors, a reason, reasons to stay do help. Cooper is none of that yet, cannot be. Blaine dares to hope by now Kurt and his family will always be that … and more.

"Are you sure?" Cooper and Burt ask almost in unison.

"Please stop asking. Please!" Blaine breathes out shakily. "Because I'm not. Okay! I'm not sure. Right now I just … I want …," Blaine turns to Kurt alone again, "I need to get out of here." Squeezing his eyes shut tight and taking a breath as deep as he can manage right here, adds, "I promise I won't run away, Burt, Carole. I just need to try and breathe, just breathe for a while. Please?"

_'Run away?'_ Cooper thinks, confused. Kurt lets go of Cooper's arm with a final squeeze, Cooper cannot help but think is meant to reassure.

"Let's go," Kurt hums gently to Blaine as he leans forward pressing a kiss onto Blaine's forehead, like he had done many times in Blaine's unquiet sleep at Dalton, having found it helped to calm him, long before they ever shared their first romantic kiss.

"Please," is all Blaine brings out. Then he is on his feet, visibly agitated now that his body is not curled up in on itself anymore, hiding the tremors.

Without another word Kurt gets up as well, leans forward once more and pecks a kiss on Blaine's lips, coaxing Blaine's gaze onto him fully, "Okay." With a quick glance at Burt and Carole he inquires, "I'll call one of you when we are ready to go back and meet you by the car?"

"That's fine, Kiddo," Burt nods. The boys are already turning to go, Blaine holding on to one of Kurt's arms, when Burt adds quietly, "Blaine?"

"Yeah?" the boy replies, glancing in Burt's direction briefly, but not fully looking at the man, the weight in his stomach feeling like it is dragging all of him down, including his gaze.

"If you change your mind about this one here," Burt gives Cooper a stern look, "that's fine. That'll always be fine. It's your life, Blaine. You have choices here, don't you forget that. Okay?"

Blaine hears the unsettling feeling of incomplete trust in Burt's voice that Blaine cannot help but feel as well towards the stranger beside Burt, kind but foreign … and not just in his Britishness. "Yes," Blaine's answer is accompanied by a shaky nod. And how could there be any real certainty anyway in all of this turmoil.

"Love you, Kid," Burt replies, _'Can't have you go around doubting that,'_ the man thinks, heavy-hearted.

Blaine nods with a forced tiny smile at Burt, too choked up for any more words, holding something else in, Kurt just knows.

The breathy broken sob Blaine lets out as soon as he and Kurt pass back out into the cool air rips away from deep within Blaine and thrashes just as deep into Kurt's core.

'_Stay with me,' _is all Kurt can think clearly as both his hands take hold of Blaine's left and hold it tight and warm as Kurt takes the lead and the boys' feet start moving, thoughts clouded, dark and thundery.


	33. Under Pressure

A/N:

Freakin' flip, I LOVE CAROLE!

And YES, like the brilliant Queen song ...

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**33: Under Pressure**

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><p>They reach the car almost two hours later, minutes before the thunderstorm really hits the town and the skies open.<p>

All the drive home the rhythmic tapping of raindrops onto the car's exterior can be heard, and soon - the sounds accompanied by a soft humming from Kurt - Blaine is fast asleep in the other boy's arms. The contentment brought on by the combination of the little food Kurt had gotten him to eat while they had kept walking around town and the warmth of Kurt's embrace, offering some honest peace, a place to rest safely.

Cooper watches over his shoulder in astonishment at the peacefulness that has settled onto his little brother's features. _'This boy makes him feel so safe. How?' _And Cooper cannot help the pang of jealousy bursting open in his chest, _'I wish that was me. I want to be able to do that for him.'_

Carole smiles sadly at Cooper as if she can read his thoughts and mouths quietly, "Love."

'_Right,' _and Cooper is all too painfully aware that Blaine cannot feel anything close to that for him, … not yet anyway.

The start to the last two hours in the diner had been nowhere near as harmonious between Kurt's parents and Cooper. Burt and Carole might be well-meaning towards anyone, but they are not, certainly not naïve.

The sound of Blaine's sob had not carried back into the diner, where Burt and Carole had been left sitting with the stranger that Cooper was and still frankly is to them.

And how could he be anything more right now, the man who has just completely altered a young boy's world beyond recognition, in so many ways.

In a briefly held silence, after Kurt and Blaine had left, there had been sips of drinks, and noses being blown, eyes being rubbed to rid them of the persistent remnants of tears dried and still drying, insides settling as much as they had been able to in that moment.

Then …

"How can we trust you?" Carole had kind of blurted out, all hesitation and restraint held around Kurt and Blaine forgotten, because she sure had not been about to let this stranger hurt any of her boys. "Blaine has been through so much, so much none of us will ever fully understand, maybe not even he himself, and he has finally just about been able to feel safer with us these past weeks. How can I trust you not to destroy that, not to take all that away again?"

Blaine no longer there, Cooper had been struggling hard to keep anything together, especially because he knows, "I don't think I could were the roles reversed, but I hope you can … trust me. I want you to know though, I don't expect you to trust me just like that, I am glad you don't, I am glad you love Blaine that much, because how many people would see this just as an opportunity to get finally rid of someone? Thank you for not doing that to him. Thank you for really, really loving him. If his dad is still in any way like I remember him …," Cooper had broken off tears gathered in his eyes and about to fall with just one more blink of the eye, "… he needs love. He needs to know he is loved, more than anything. Kurt is just … he is so amazing with him. At his age I might have not know anything to do but run from all that pain and hardship. And … he does not."

"Blaine is his rock too," Carole had softly interjected. "You might not have been able to see it today, but gosh, … they hold …, they carry each other. Not too long ago it was Blaine who stood up for Kurt, when Kurt felt most lost and alone. I don't know many adult couples who can carry each other mutually that completely. And it is dangerous and scary, but when it works it is the best thing possible for a relationship."

"I hope you … you know how grateful I am to you already. Please tell me he has been living with you a long time. Please tell me he got out of there a hell of a long time ago. His father he, … the way he … the things he did …. Please tell me he did not have to grow up like that, all this time."

"I wish I could tell you that," Burt had said, expression pained. "I can't, Cooper."

Cooper had buried his head in his arms, propped up on the table top, and had mumbled brokenly, "And he cuts. Don't deny it. I saw his sleeve ride up."

Carole had reached over for one of Cooper's hands, and the young man had looked up at her touch, "Honestly, it is more complicated than that. I can promise you though he is not harming himself right now."

"Are you sure?" Cooper had asked unsure and shaken because how could anyone know such a thing for a fact about another person?

"He regularly sees a doctor our family has been with for years and Kurt and I, we always go with him. He asks us to, every time, to come and listen to all he talks about with her. He is trying so hard to be good to himself. He is trying so very hard. He needs some time to himself sometimes, some more than others maybe, but he is sick of hiding, it is the last thing he wants. You showing up like this …. None of us, to be honest, can tell what that will result in, but if I have learned anything about Blaine in the past months it is that he will want to want you in his life. And he is as afraid of it not working out as you must feel," Carole had added.

"I want to trust you, but I need to tell you, Mr. Anderson, if you are playing some kind of sick game with Blaine you will regret it," Burt had said fixing his gaze on Cooper.

Cooper's eyes had widened and teared anew at that,"I promise you, I swear, I am not. I came here hoping I might learn some more about what happened to my mom and maybe even Blaine, … where their, their graves might be. I honestly had never expected to find either of them alive."

"Why did you not go to your step-father about that in the first place?" Burt had asked, still features stern.

Cooper had let out a pained dry laugh, "You have never actually met him, have you?"

"Blaine has not been ready to take that step with us. And we haven't pushed," Burt had answered.

"I doubt Blaine's father would open the door for me, or throw it right back into my face if he did," Cooper had said dryly. "And frankly, I thought, if I can find out about my family without having to let him back into my life … all the better. And when an old family friend who had come across your family's homepages online contacted my grandmother I had to take the chance. I see how he and Kurt are with each other, I would never dream of taking any of that away from him. Never. All I am asking of you is to allow me to try and be here for him like you have been, alongside you, not, never, instead off." The serious expression on Cooper's face had intensified with his next words, "How did he … how did you get him to trust you?"

Carole had smiled then, genuinely, "I don't think you can understand how much they love each other, Kurt and Blaine. How much they needed each other when they met. They are both fighters too. I know they might not look it but they are so tough. Blaine is so much stronger than any of us, the things he has been through, and we only know part of it. He chose to trust us. Cooper, if you really want him to trust you, most of all, you need to be yourself around him. He needs to feel that you are being honest with him, about everything. Don't make up stories, and don't promise things you are not sure you can keep. That will be the quickest way to losing him again. This time really forever."

Cooper had nodded, whispering "Yeah," expression earnest … and desperate, "How is all this going to be okay one day?"

Burt had said, "We will figure things out as good as we can, with him. Our family won't ever abandon him. And _you_, you need to give him one thing more than anything."

"What's that?" Cooper had asked looking right at Burt.

"Time."

They make it back to Lima late that afternoon and drop Cooper of at a hotel with Blaine still curled up with Kurt in one corner of the backseat, even faster asleep now.

The next days and nights are the toughest – Cooper damned to be waiting, alone, Blaine again as insomniac as he once always used to be while still living at Dalton, before meeting Kurt.

The biggest difference to Blaine to his Dalton times is that he has always someone there with him, awake. Carole, Burt, Kurt and even Finn sit with him, quietly or talking, reading stories to him and Kurt even whole books.

Kurt almost never leaves Blaine's side at all. Whether Blaine is drawing, which he does more than the others have ever seen him do, or is lying exhausted on the living room couch, on the brink of sleep but unable to allow himself to fall, Kurt is there, awake, asleep, but there to remind Blaine that things can one day be truly alright - in moments, precious moments, already are.


	34. The Void

**A/N: **Once more a great pleasure talking to you lovely people. It really is inspiring and such a wonderful confidence and motivation boost to get to hear a little about how this story makes you feel reading. Thank you reviewers, readers old and new. Hearing from you is the best part, next to writing for you and me!

* * *

><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**34: The Void**

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><p>"I want to go see Cooper."<p>

It is the evening after the dinner at which Blaine had uttered those words and after the resulting phone-call to Cooper, made by Carole, that Blaine starts feeling really sick.

It has only been an hour since Carole had come to Blaine and Kurt's room and told them Cooper had agreed to a meeting the next morning – at Blaine's request – when the reality of it all hits Blaine.

Instead of falling asleep that night peacefully, for the first time since meeting his half-brother, for the first time since finding out he has one to begin with, Blaine is restless, more than before.

Kurt finds his room empty when he comes back from brushing his teeth.

He finds Blaine downstairs on the living room couch, legs drawn up, paper notebook resting on them crookedly, open, tightly pressed into a secure hold between his limbs as he sketches loosely onto the pages with a plain pencil, _'Blaine's favorite thing.'_

There is light in the kitchen, but Kurt does not take too much notice of it, senses absorbed with the quiet sniffling filling the room, and the boy looking so much like …,_ '… like he had hiding away in that cabin in the woods.'_

And then Carole is there, seemingly out of nowhere materializing, kneeling beside Blaine on the couch, pressing a kiss into the still sniffling boy's forehead, a hot steaming cup of something into his hands.

Blaine melts into the feel of her hand, warmed by the cup, softly holding one of his cheeks, the other gently running through Blaine's curls, once, twice.

"Thank you," Blaine whispers.

"It's your favorite," Carole hums, pressing another kiss to Blaine's forehead before standing back up. "I'm in the kitchen doing some reading if you need me."

Unnoticed by Blaine, already back to his drawing and warming his hands and tummy with the warm cup and its content, Carole passes Kurt as she walks back into the brightly lit room, taking him in her arms and with her – Kurt finds himself sitting at the kitchen table with Carole moments later, Carole's latest read resting beside her on the surface, both of them sipping the still almost boiling hot liquid, fresh from the pot, carefully.

"Sweety? Kurt?" she asks as Kurt remains silent for a heartbeat more.

It is a mere whisper, "Is he okay?"

"He's hurting," she says sadly, only her honesty reassuring to Kurt in all of this.

He knows where he is at with Carole and his Dad. _'It's really strange how comforting honesty can be.' _"Shouldn't we take him to a doctor or … or the emergency room?" Kurt knows he can get a little overprotective when it comes to Blaine but … _'He needs to be safe,' _in every way.

"Not that kind of hurt, Sweety" Carole answers, adding as she sees Kurt's frown of broken confusion, "Remember how when you were a little kid in school, and there … there is this, there was this subject you were okay taking because you found it interesting, but every time a teacher announced that there would be a test very soon, the closer that date got the bigger a stomach ache you would get, until the night before the test was to take place, you felt so sick all you could do was curl up on your bed, hold your tummy and cry until you fell asleep?"

Kurt nods, throat dry as he swallows hard, croaking out a, "Yeah. I do."

"I think, … I think Blaine is feeling like that right now. He came to me and said he had a bad stomach ache, so we went downstairs and I made him something hot to drink. Hopefully it will help him relax, a little at least."

"He came to you?" Kurt asks.

"Yeah, he did." Carole instantly reads Kurt's fallen expression right, and reaching out, taking one of Kurt's hands in hers, squeezing lovingly, says, "It's a good thing."

"That I'm jealous?" Kurt asks puzzled, still overwhelmed by his own emotions this has brought on.

"No, Sweety, that he feels comfortable to ask more people than you in our home for help. Kurt, I did not say anything before but …." Carole heaves a deep breath.

"But?"

Carole looks back up at her step-son, still holding his hand warmly, "But …, you know how people say that spreading love around is a good thing?" Kurt nods. "It's kind of similar with pain, although people don't seem to like to admit that all that much."

"What do you mean?"

"If we only share our love in life and for each other and don't talk to each other about pain and heartache and … and … nightmares," Kurt swallows hard, sniffles himself and averts his gaze from Carole as she goes on, "… then we miss big parts of who someone really is, of who we are. And for the person hurting, feeling misunderstood, and alone, so very alone and isolated even, … after a while you stop being able to breathe, and if you don't find someone who makes you smile again, yes, but also allows you to cry, after a while you … you just want to die, because you feel so alone and not at all like yourself and … and changed, and not for the better." Carole breaks off with a big huff of air, eyes glassy.

"You have felt that," Kurt softly says, sniffling even more now.

"After my first husband, Finn's father died …. I had no one to talk to. I know, maybe that makes me a terrible mom, but sometimes I just sat there talking to baby Finn, crying and …. It wasn't pretty ... or right."

"How did you get better?" Kurt asks genuinely curious.

"Time. And a self-help group for soldiers' wives. They even offered day-care while we had our sessions," Carole adds as an afterthought.

Kurt is hugging Carole warmly when he says, "I'm so happy you found someone to talk to. I wish we could do that for Blaine."

"Me too," Carole breathes sadly.

"I wish …, I wish there was … more. More I could do," Kurt whispers.

"Oh, Sweety, you are doing it all. Unless you want to try and force him into a therapy of sorts …," Carole says.

"No! No, I don't want … I don't think forcing someone into any such a thing would help anyone. Do you think I'm wrong?" Kurt asks shyly.

"I want him to feel ready, well, ready enough, stable enough to try taking that step whenever he wants, or maybe he doesn't, never will. Not everyone who needs to get well needs therapy for it. And it does not work for everyone either, … I think. It's just one possible way to deal society has build. I really think there are more ways to get better. Honestly, Kurt, I wish I knew more about how this whole therapy thing really might work for him. For instance, I can't see Blaine in a self-help group. Not at the moment at least."

"Would there be one for … for someone with his … pain?" Kurt asks.

"I don't know. But the way Blaine had to grow up, the way … the way he … his perspective on things must feel unique to him. Lonely. I think that is part of what makes him so sad, afraid. But learning that there are other children who have maybe experienced abuse quite similar to his, … I wonder if that would help Blaine at all, or just make him close up again more. I never found that argument helpful in any way, you know, the thing about 'There are other people out there who have it as bad or much worse than you.'"

"We should talk about that with Blaine some day," Kurt whispers.

"We really should, shouldn't we," Carole replies. "First things first though. We are meeting Cooper in the city park tomorrow morning. For a walk, and so Blaine can learn some more about him, and he about Blaine, as much as Blaine wants to share. If Cooper starts pushing him for information, or makes him uncomfortable in any way we will be right out of there."

"I'm terrified he will hurt Blaine," Kurt admits, tears flowing over with the next breath he takes.

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><p>AN: I know Blaine is missed, not being present so strongly in these last chapters. He will be back in the next chapters featuring much more prominently. I'm hoping you are looking forward to them as much as I am after writing this.


	35. Water Is Wet

A/N:** Rory46** you knew this was coming: This is for you. Thank you for being wonderful! Thank you for caring.

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**35: Water Is Wet**

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><p>It is a fight that morning, turning away from the bedside table the paper-notebook is resting on and just <em>'...just walking out there. I can do it. Just walk and talk ..."<em>

Blaine makes it out into the hall before his breaths turn so agitated and shallow that he feels dizzy and closing his eyes has to lean his back against the wall to try and catch his breath.

He wants to call out for someone, but his throat won't stop closing up and his eyes won't open, lids too heavy.

Blaine's heart stands still, he is sure, for just a moment, when he feels himself being enclosed in a warm hold.

He cannot find the choice in his head, those buttons to push. There had always been these two big signs flashing behind his eyelids, taunting him into making a choice, both of them always feeling wrong, but the only ones there what else had he ever been supposed to do but choose one, _Fight_ or _Flight_?

Blaine cannot say he in all honesty misses those days ... but he misses the simplicity. Now there are more buttons to choose from, _'...so many more. And levers and doors, and windows ...,'_ and the thought alone makes him even dizzier, so he pulls the first lever he can reach, the one now closest, _Hold On_, and lets his tears roll.

There is a hand soft on his hair, and an arm steadying around his shoulders, and that is all Blaine can know, all he can feel right now. And it is enough, the knowledge he is allowed to let go, and there is someone there who won't let go of him, let him crumble to the floor or even kick him down. That's the past, _'It's the past. It's the past. It's in the past,' _he reminds himself.

"You are safe here, Buddy. You are safe."

It is a dad's voice, laced with that typical mixture of concern and love and the fear and hope of doing and saying the wrong thing, the right thing. Blaine had not known it before he moved into this house. He had heard Burt using it with Kurt and then Finn, too.

Blaine has never been spoken to like this in his life, and ...

... and it would freak him out, properly, if there were not all those fond memories of Kurt and Burt and Finn smiling at each other connected to this.

"Burt," he croaks out, his voice feeling watery and weak in his throat, salty and bitter on his tongue.

"Yeah, Buddy?"

"Thank you."

The only change Blaine can feel is Burt holding him that little tighter, that little closer, like he is not that afraid anymore of hurting, of breaking Blaine.

The only change Blaine can hear is the wetness in Burt's voice, "Son, ... it's alright. It's all okay."


	36. Dew

**Getting Away**

**Chapter 36: Dew**

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><p>In the places the sun has not reached yet the ground and grass are still frosted over with dew.<p>

Airi and Aneira could not be more in love with the hint of snow and winter, the summer will be a long one for them, but winter all the more welcome for it after.

Cooper had not expected to be greeted not only by Carole, Kurt and Blaine this morning, but also two husky pups, Burt, and a tall dark-haired boy he has never seen before.

After what had happened this morning with Blaine in that hallway, looking so very scared, Burt had not been able to convince himself it would be better to stay away, not crowd everyone.

Burt had always known he has always been overprotective when it comes to his son, but in all his life he had never expected to feel the same way about his son's first boyfriend.

Cooper thinks he understands why he is so hugely outnumbered, and as much as he appreciates it, he is equally terrified.

"Cooper," Carole is the first to reach him, warmly shaking his hand.

"Hello," Cooper replies with a hesitant smile, pushing the glasses slightly askew back into place on his nose.

Carole cannot overlook the signs of exhaustion in the young man's features. "How do you like Lima?"

"It is a nice change from all the travelling I have to do for work to stay in one place a little longer for once than just a couple of nights."

"Right. Sure," Burt says, as he steps up next to Carole and shakes Cooper's hand too; maybe a little too tightly. But hey, it is just to make sure the man remembers no less than the best of intentions will allow him a place in Blaine's life if Burt has any say in it. Which he will fight for, if he has to.

"Blaine," Cooper greats hopefully.

"Hi."

Kurt waves to Cooper in a friendly but reserved greeting, standing beside the smaller boy.

Blaine's reply is shy, but Cooper cannot help but feel all warm inside at the small attempt at a smile accompanying it, and especially at the healthy pinkish tone in Blaine's cheeks he only notices now as they are standing close. _'He must have run around a little with the dogs on his way here.'_ "Your dogs are beautiful," Cooper says into the round.

"Thanks, man," Finn is the one to step up, too holding out a hand. "I'm Finn, Kurt's brother."

"Oh. You are brother's?" Cooper not meaning any harm asks looking between the boys for a likeness in features.

"Carole's my mom, and Kurt's …."

"Step-mom," Cooper finishes.

"Exactly," Finn confirms with a smile.

Kurt and Cooper exchange a look that Finn has no idea how to read, so instead of prying he turns to Blaine, "Dude, your bro seems cool."

Blaine allows a small smile to actually cross his lips as he looks back at Cooper.

Kurt feels Blaine's hand holding onto his more tightly as he says, "Th…, thank you for coming to see," he clears his scratchy throat, "… see me."

Cooper, shrugging his shoulders, and tilting his head a little to the side, clearly imitating Finn as he stuffs his hands into his pants pockets too, replies, "Dude, it's cool."

Kurt is the first to burst into a big smile, nudging Blaine gently in the shoulder with his own, as Blaine chews on a smile that feels unfamiliar on his face … but good too.

"Man that was awesome," Finn chimes happily. "Mom said you were an actor. But why do you sound so British?"

"I've lived there for a long while, with our grandmother. Blaine and mine's that is."

"Cool," Finn nods. "Rachel made me watch that movie, _My Fair _… something."

"_My Fair Lady_?" Cooper asks.

"Yeah, yeah that one. And, man, I can understand you way better than that flower girl."

"Glad to hear it," Cooper smiles, not missing Blaine and Kurt smiling too, Kurt rolling his eyes fondly.

Cooper kneels down next to the dogs, reaching out to pet their fur and about to ask their names when Blaine blurts, stepping forward and almost in between Cooper and the husky pups, "I think they are getting restless. We should walk around some."

Cooper nods, confusion visible on his face, but only as they are walking again, Kurt and Finn walking in between him on one side and Blaine and the pups on the other, Cooper asks, "What are their names?"

Finn looking like he is almost about to skip happily answers, "Airi is the brownish one and Aneira the one with more black spots in her fur."

Cooper smiles, looking over at Blaine again, who looks curiously tense.

They walk in silence for a while. Only when they have all a cup of coffee, Finn hot chocolate and Burt a hot tea, in hand and are settled down on some park benches beside a pond, the dogs sitting with Carole and Burt now, some feet away, Cooper tries again. Getting up from one end of the bench he walks the five steps over to where Blaine is sitting with Kurt and squats down in front of the boy, "Blaine?"

"Yes?" Blaine is looking down again.

Cooper hates how small the boy sitting there looks, and he wants to pull his baby brother into a hug, but after the moment with the pups earlier he does not dare reach out. There is a question he has to ask. As much as he wants to know the answer he is also afraid he knows it already. "Why did you not want me to touch Airi and Aneira?"

"It's not that," Blaine says, scooting back on the bench, a little further away from Cooper.

Cooper does not miss the small movement, takes the hint and moves about half a meter back himself.

That does get Blaine's attention, because as much as he tries to focus on the ground, as much as he tries to keep his eyes fixed there, he cannot help watching the older man, his brother, out of the corner of his eyes. It is terrifying to look, but even scarier to not see anything at all.

"I'm scared," Blaine whispers, clearly wanting to say more, but mouth just gaping and twitching helplessly slightly.

Cooper is not just anyone, Cooper knows things others do not when it comes to Blaine, so he does not need to hear more to hear it all, said and not, "I promise you, Blaine, I promise," and there are tears in both brothers' eyes when they meet a moment later, "I will never hurt them, or you. I will never hurt anyone you love."

"You are not just saying that, right? Please don't just say that if … if …," Blaine blubbers struggling.

"B, I know you cannot remember me, and all I remember about you is how mashed strawberries and blueberries were your favorite food when you were two, and how mom tried to teach you to say new words, but all you were interested in was the word music, because you knew that mom would play something for you whenever you said it."

"I did that?" Blaine asks, crying harder.

"Yeah," Cooper hums warmly. "Yeah, B, you did. And I don't know how to prove it to you, how to ever prove it to you. All I can tell you is that … that, I loved you then and I love you now. And I wish, more than anything that you could believe and trust me."

"I want to," Blaine replies quickly. "I really want to, but …."

"You don't know how. I know," Cooper finishes for the boy when he watches him bury his tear-stained face in Kurt's shoulder and hold on to the boy he has learned to trust over the last months, with so much, with almost everything.


	37. Everybody Is Looking For Something

**Getting Away**

**Chapter 37: Everybody Is Looking For Something**

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><p>What happens that night has never happened before, not at the Hummels' home.<p>

Blaine wakes up screaming, screaming his heart out.

It takes him a moment to realize he is wrapped in someone's arms, and a little longer to realize it is Kurt.

And really Blaine blames himself for it, all of it.

He had been so tired last night after meeting Cooper in the morning. All day he had just felt so drained, he had fallen asleep right there, wrapped in Kurt's warmth.

All day Kurt had had to watch him just sitting on the living-room couch, stiff and staring into space, not even paying attention anymore to paper-notebook and pencils lying next to him.

It had scared Kurt to no end.

So holding him that night, being allowed to hold Blaine close, it had been such a relief for the boy.

"Carole?" Kurt had walked into the kitchen only hours before they had settled in bed.

"Yes, Sweety," she had answered, looking up from the bills spread out in front of her on the kitchen table - they need to be sorted through and paid some time after all.

"He's been like this since we got back," Kurt had whispered, voice scratchy and shaken.

"Give him some time. Meeting Cooper like that, by choice this time, it must be so difficult to process. I think he asked to meet him in the morning so he would not be a jittery mess all day and worry his heart out. And this now, well, this is the downside of doing that, meeting him in the morning, there is that day to get through now."

"Thank you for ... for just ... being there," Kurt had said teary eyed.

"Oh, Honey," she had replied, getting up and pulling Kurt into a hug.

Kurt had kept it together for Blaine in the park that morning, never once leaving Blaine's side.

When they had come home, however, and Blaine had excused himself, shakily taking the stairs step by step - Kurt had rightly suspected to get his drawing essentials - Kurt had locked himself in the downstairs bathroom, turned on the tap, ... and just cried, for a full seven minutes.

Trying to understand what it is like for Blaine to meet Cooper, what it is like to try and get to know him, someone who should be so familiar, and yet is so foreign, a stranger to Blaine; watching Blaine half killing himself with grief over not knowing what to do, how to act around that man, his big brother, it is killing Kurt too.

Kurt then had spent another two minutes actually splashing the still running, cold water onto his face, trying to rub the itch out of his eyes. It had only left them redder.

Now, in the darkness, the only light that from the doorway falling into the room where it is not obscured by the shadows of the people standing in it, Blaine is just lying there, frozen, except for the panting, involuntarily heaving his chest.

The long whimper that escapes Blaine's lips moments later has Kurt loosen his hold on the boy, only to be wrapped up in Blaine's own desperate hold seconds later, pulling him down, closer again, like he is afraid if he lets go he will drown in the sheets, the mattress, really, his own head.

Blaine's mind may be open, conscious, but the nightmares are still right there. They are still all he can see with his eyes squeezed shut tight, unable to pry them open, so he needs to feel, feel Kurt close, "Stay, please," Blaine chokes. "Don't leave me alone. Don't leave me with them, Kurt. Please, don't ... don't ... ."

"I'm here, Blaine. Love, I'm here, shhh, no one else, just us," it is a technical lie, it is not like the whole family had not come running as soon as the screams had ripped them from their sleep. They are still standing in the doorway, watching on wearily, even Finn has murmured a refusal to go back to bed until they know Blaine is okay, for now, for the night at least.

Kurt just hopes Blaine understands, can take in his words. Kurt just hopes he has enough of an insight now to be able to guess at what Blaine needs - enough to comfort, at least that ... that skill, it is all Kurt has been wishing for, for weeks.

It changes, what Blaine dreams about, is haunted by, so it is always a stab in the dark. It will always be a stab in the dark ... will always stay that if Blaine never feels able to talk about it, not really. It have been some torn sentences here and there so far, things that make not enough sense to Kurt and Carole, things that will forever make too much sense to Blaine and none at all, all at the same time. That is the hardest part.

The whole family had thought Blaine was having them less and less, those bad dreams. Bad memories do not just leave though, are not easily replaced. Not even by love.

They hide and lurk and wait, wait for the perfect moment to resurface, with a vengeance ... and in guises new, truer, often, and sometimes so malicious, so false ... .

It hurts then, that new guise, that new pain, even more than the painful reality known already before ever had. New pain comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes, a disturbing variety of flavors.

Kurt still has no idea Blaine steals away in those nights, the bad ones, the really bad ones, to the other side of the bed, so he does not ... so Kurt can get a break from him.

And mostly he just lies there shaking then, awake, asleep, but trembling all night.

But that is not that bad, right? _'It is so much better, so much more than anything I've ever had,'_ Blaine often finds himself thinking in those nights when he really cannot fall asleep, and spends all his hours watching Kurt's peaceful expression in his sleep. Wishing, deeply, dearly, he could join him in it. Wishing he could let go, relax, really dream. But dreams are not for him. If his nightmares weren't telling him that much already ... there are enough of memories of his father and grandfather that would, and do.

_"Worthless, little piece of shit." _The words are dull, used up by recall in Blaine's head. They still sting though, stab, tear open, ... hurt, hurt Blaine, rip through his almost none existent peace of mind.

That is what Blaine loves so much about drawing. No words.

That is what has Blaine so afraid of talking about his drawings. Words ... tearing apart ... .

Kurt does not say it, never says it, but Blaine knows how hard all this is on his boyfriend. _'Kurt needs, Kurt deserves a break. A million breaks. From me.'_

How could you not feel bad about turning someone's life, someone who is so kind to you, utterly upside down? Blaine cannot stand the thought of all this to him so sickening dark becoming forever a part of his life with Kurt, of their love. He does not want that, cannot allow it. So he has to hide it,_ '... right? Right?'_

Either way, he feels like he does ... have to do that, keep things to himself. Even if it hurts, starts hurting again worse _every _time he does. But what choice is there? _'My new life ... it can't ...,' _his new life cannot be build on that, right? There is no past to build on with him, _'...why does no one understand that? No good past. Impossible. I can't change it. Any of it. It's all so ... so impossible.'_

Scooting out of the other boys arms, after a bad day, Blaine has specialised himself in that the last weeks.

Staying awake until Kurt is fast asleep and then ... stealing away to the far side of the bed. Blaine really is an expert in it these days, ... he thinks.

But Blaine had been so drained, last night, he had fallen asleep first, pressed tightly to Kurt's warm chest, sniffling, still thinking about Cooper, _'I want to love you.'_

"He hit me," Blaine suddenly sobs into Kurt's shoulder.

There is no use telling Blaine it was just a dream, since so much of it just ... is not, is so much more, all mixed in there, messily, and Kurt knows that, latest since having made that exact mistake and ending up with Blaine sobbing for almost an hour more in his arms a week or so ago.

It was just a dream. _U__sually_ it is the wrong thing to say, but ... .

"You are safe, Blaine, Love. It's just you and me."

"He, he hit me," Blaine whispers, voice torn, almost unrecognizable. "Cooper hit me."

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><p><strong>AN: **Feel free to skip this author's note guys, it is just a review answer from me to a reader who has the PM option disabled. You won't miss anything here, I promise, except me being sentimental about people caring about this story.

**To onesimpletouch**: I wanted to stop by and answer you in a PM, but sadly your PM option is disabled at the present time. SO, here I go: Firstly, obviously, thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. It is profoundly encouraging to receive feedback from new readers who are so gripped by the story they cannot stop reading until they are up to my latest post. I mean, who does not want their writing to be gripping:) Writing and expressing myself has become easier over the last year, for sure, and I even love it even more today than I did back then. Wow, really, those fics, you think I am as good as them? One in Four was too overwhelming to me at some point and I had to stop reading it, actually, but I am familiar with both authors' works. It is so sweet of you to send me all this encouraging praise. English may not be the language I was born into, and I may still live in a country where it is not spoken, but ... it is my home. I cannot explain it. It is this feeling that asks for my trust, and I am giving it, because I cannot imagine a life in a different language. I am less picky about the country, but I need, and I want to spend my life in English. Just really, thank you for caring!

That goes for all of you readers out there.

M:)


	38. In The Dead Of Night

**A/N: **Hi there! I have been longing to post this after the varied reactions I got to the last chapter, and so I wrote and wrote ... and wrote this weekend, and am posting this chapter a little earlier than I had originally intended. I cannot wait to hear what you make of this. I hope it is a wonderful read no matter if you are shocked, surprised or simply feel reassured in your point of view. M

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**Chapter 38: In The Dead Of Night**

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><p>Kurt is not sure how but from one moment to the next he finds his arms empty.<p>

Eyes still squeezed shut tight, afraid of what will really be there to see once he opens them, Blaine is sitting up, still on the bed but turned away from Kurt now, legs propped up wide, his upper body hunched over. The covers crumpled up around his lower body feel heavy on his skin, his head lowered between his legs is throbbing.

Blaine struggles to keep breathing, unable to focus even on this so simple, natural seeming task. His stomach is in knots, pressing hard onto his lungs, causing pain to shoot through his whole body with every attempt at a breath.

Angry, pained tears sliding down his cheeks, hands buried in his hair, Blaine keeps choking on his own words, but they want out. Forced past his lips, all of the boy shaking, his strained voice caries them somehow to the others' ears, "He hit me. I trusted him. And he ... he hit me."

Kurt tries to pull Blaine back into his arms, to get Blaine to focus ... on him, on them, on anything but what is lingering in his mind. He can tell from the whimpers he hears, cutting the sobs short, Blaine is still trapped in the place he should feel safe.

But where can you go when your own mind is the scariest place you know?

"Baby, please, please can you open your eyes for me? Just look at me, Love. Please?"

But Blaine just keeps shaking all over, throwing his head from side to side in a jerky motion, hair still gripped tightly in his hands, choking out past whizzing breaths, "No. No no nonononono."

Kurt has to settle for pressing himself closer to Blaine, awkwardly winding his arms around Blaine's middle from the side, ... and holding on, his left cheek pressed against Blaine's right shoulder blade.

Something about it Kurt cannot explain feels like the cabin all over, Blaine right there, beside him, in his arms even, yet so far out of Kurt's reach.

The shaking lessens when Blaine feels a tell-tale dip of the bed, only to be replaced by an even heavier tremble after Blaine jumps violently in Kurt's hold at the first movement of the bed shifting, too, slightly under him.

"Shhh, shhh, Honey," Carole tries, reaching out for one of Blaine's hands, still fisted in his hair alongside the other.

He lets out a low, desperate whine, half chocked back when he feels Carole interlacing their fingers – Blaine's trembling so hard. She squeezes Blaine's hand affectionately in a bit for his attention.

A sob breaks free from his lips just as Carole's next words leave her mouth, "Remember when you dreamt of me instead of your mom?"

When his questioning eyes meet Carole's his lower lip starts to quiver all over, and what Blaine chokes out with new sobs in the next second, panting hard, has Carole know he has not heard a single word she just said.

"Why did he hit me?"

"Sweety," Carole scoots closer, opens her arms wide, inviting Blaine in. "Come here."

Blaine almost falls forward, even though Kurt has to force himself to let go.

After a moment of Blaine just fighting to breathe in more than choke on air, Carole, one hand patting the back of Blaine's head, the other firm around him in a strengthening hold, tries, again, softly, "Blaine, Sweety, do you remember the night we ended up in the kitchen together?" She can feel him nod in her hold so Carole goes on, "Remember what you had dreamt that night?"

The boy lets out another low, tortured sound in answer, all words, all thoughts meeting his lips reduced to mere noises – hard to read any day, torn apart by his pain almost impossible.

"Blaine, Sweety, it didn't make it real, right? You dreaming about me ... leaving you ...," Carole swallows back her own sob, "... hurting you. It didn't make it happen, it didn't make it real. Right?!"

"Didn't," Blaine chokes out in answer, confirmation.

And Carole can feel him tightening his hold in a silent _Don't ever want it to happen. Don't let it happen. Please. PLEASE!_

"Don't leave me," his voice is so small, stripped raw.

"Not ever, if I can help it, Sweety. Not ever!" Carole murmurs, trying to sooth the mind of the boy in her arms, before she feels his whole body tense as she says gently, as gently as she knows how, "Cooper ..., Kurt told me what he said to you in the park, what he promised." She feels Blaine tugging away his face in her embrace, hoping, like a little kid thinking it can make anything disappear covering its eyes. But the pictures are already inside, inside Blaine's mind, all too bright, feeling all too real. "Sweety, Blaine, please talk to me."

"Can't," the boy chokes, and his arms tighten even further around Carole's shoulders.

"Do you believe him, Blaine? Cooper? Do you believe him? Because I do. He cares about you. So much! He wants you to be safe and happy."

Kurt hears Blaine's voice muffled by Carole's embrace, and Carole knows now, this second time he has heard her, "Why would I dream that? Why would I make that up? Maybe, ... ."

He does not have to say it, Carole gets it. "Maybe, it really did happen," she completes his unspoken thought.

"Yeah," he blubbers with a voice torn, weak, and watery.

"Tell me about it," she says simply.

"Why?"

"So we can figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"If it could ever have happened, Hon," she hums softly.

There is a long silence, then, "They were coming up the stairs, together ... loud and laughing in ... in that way," Blaine breaks off.

"Drunk?" Carole asks.

"Not just that. I ... can't explain, but I know, I knew when they ... they were coming ... to ..., for me. To hurt me," he sobs. "I didn't know he was with them, not until I saw them when I was peeking out my bedroom door. I wanted to run and ..."

"Hide," Kurt, hands fisted in the bedcovers, softly finishes for the boy ringing for air again.

Blaine nods jerkily, "In ... in the attic. But they ... they were too close, too fast. I ran back into my room. I tried to hide, under my bed, but they found me. I had ... dropped Babar, and I had to go back for him, I couldn't leave him. I would never leave him ... I ... I ..."

"What did he look like?" Carole asks.

"Babar?" Blaine questions confused, between sobs.

"Cooper," Carole says carefully, "How old was he?"

"I don't understand ... . What are you trying to say? He ... it was Cooper, he looked like Cooper ... he, ...," Blaine pulls out of Carole's arms then, and Kurt is quick to be there and steady his boyfriend, swaying even as he just tries to remain sitting upright on the bed.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks, own voice wet and strung high.

"It was Cooper," Blaine says, eyes suddenly wide.

Carole looks at him with a tiny broken but hopeful smile, encouraging him to go on ... think it, say it.

"I ... I mean, it couldn't have been, it wasn't Cooper," Blaine's heart is doing a weird twisting thing then that has him ringing for air even more for a moment.

Kurt is already pulling him sideways to his chest before he can collapse in on himself when the knots in his chest slowly start to loosen.

Blaine's eyes are fixed on Carole's still, "He wasn't there. He was ... he was a kid. He can't have." And Blaine does not understand why exactly but he finds himself sobbing even harder then than he has all night, "He didn't, he didn't really hit me?"

Carole is not about to take gaining certainty himself from Blaine, so she does not nod, just asks, "Think about it, Blaine. Could it have happened the way you dreamt it?"

"No," Blaine sobs, in relief, tears streaming over his cheeks as he shakes his head in tiny motions, his eyes sliding shut. The darkness is not welcoming nor warming but safe again ... for the moment.

'_No.'_ Even the single word is watery and torn, but Carole does hear it clear, keeps hearing it echoing in the quiet suddenly growing in the room, or maybe just in her own head – a tiny word, so important.

She leans forward and places a kiss to Blaine's forehead, the boy's eyelids flickering at the touch.

Kurt looks at her gratefully, his own tears still running freely from red-rimmed eyes, exhaustion so clear in them, the only thing clear.

She places a kiss to Kurt's forehead too. Then, patting Blaine's curls carefully, one last time, before she gets back up from the bed, Carole murmurs softly, "Blaine, Honey, we will never allow anyone to hurt you ever again."

Burt and Carole are back in their room, Finn back in his, everyone in the house still lying wide awake, when, after minutes of just snuggling deep into Burt's embrace, Carole finds the words, "He needs to talk to someone. This is killing him. Both of them. It has to stop. We have to stop it."

So the next morning, after breakfast Carole takes Airi and Aneira on a walk, together with Blaine.

"Did you get some more sleep?" she asks, reaching over and taking Blaine's free hand, not holding the dog leashes.

Blaine, biting his lip, just shakes his head.

"It can't go on like this, Blaine, Honey."

"I'm trying."

It breaks her heart how desperately broken and guilty Blaine's words sound. "No. Blaine, no, that is NOT what I am saying. I know you are. And I am afraid you are; ... trying too hard. And all alone. You need to talk to someone. I get it if you cannot talk to us, any of us, not even Kurt. And please don't ever think that means you don't love us, or love us any less. It is because you love us that you are holding it in. Isn't it?" She asks after taking a deep breath.

Blaine does not seem to have words today, or maybe just no use for them, nodding again, eyes trailed on the ground.

"You are afraid we will love you less the more we know, or you might start resenting us for feeling like it is not love we have for you, ... only ... only pity. Blaine I get it. It is impossible to talk to especially the people you love sometimes. When the fear of being seen in a whole new, different way by them, of hurting them, losing them because of what we might say, is SO FUCKING HUGE!"

Blaine startled falters for a moment in his steps, it is not every day he hears Carole of all people curse. Then he asks, voice small but clear, "How?"

"How do I know?" she asks and Blaine nods. "My best friend, she begged me to talk to her after Christopher died. I just ... couldn't. And she thought it meant I loved her less. But I just ... I could not bear the idea of losing our friendship to all that, ... all that anger and pain, ... grief. It felt like I was about to suck her into it all, hurt her like I was hurting. I couldn't ...," she breaks off for a minute, two, and it is Blaine who, holding, squeezing her hand tight keeps the ground under _her _feet this time.

"And the self-help group ..."

"The other soldiers' wives?" Blaine asks.

Carol nods, "I ..., there were still things I was not comfortable talking about there. With all these other people, regulars and one-timers. So after a long long while, and so much crying," she huffs out, "... I went to see a therapist. I felt so selfish and self-centred going there, but she helped me understand that it is okay, that therapy is supposed to be about you, just you. That she wanted to help me grow and overcome, and help me find my way to be more of myself, as much as I possibly can be." Carole stops walking then, turns to Blaine standing beside her, eyes searching out his patiently when it takes him a moment to look up from the ground, "I want that for you Blaine. I want you to feel whole one day, and if you are anything, ANYTHING like me, Blaine, Hon, it will help, talking will help. More than you could ever dare to imagine. Please try. Please, will you try and talk to someone, Blaine? Honey."

Hand slipping from Carole's, turning away from her again, Blaine just stands there then, swallowing hard, heaving a breath, eyes glistening as he keeps watching Airi and Aneira play with each other on the sidewalk.

She does not get an answer that day, and not the next. And when day four after their walk comes around Carole reaches out to someone else who she hopes might be able to give Blaine some insights into opening up. Cooper has just really seemed very frank to her the couple of times they have met.

'_Please get it. Please get what I ...,'_ she is taken from her thoughts by Cooper's voice, "Carole," as he walks over to the table in the Lima Bean she is seated at.

"Hey," she says.

"Hi," Cooper half-echoes, "I'm about to get myself something, can I bring you another coffee, or something else?" he asks, glancing towards the half-empty cup in front of her, thinking _' ... she must be here for a while already.'_

She really had come early to get a chance to think, clear her head too. The house is remarkably quiet, despite all the people in it, but even in the quiet her head stays crowded there, controlled too harshly, trailed on anyone but herself.

"A hot chocolate would be lovely, actually," she says, smile warm as she pushes her coffee cup aside.

Shyly smiling back, eyes finding the floor in a way that Carole has seen with Blaine so often the past days, Cooper says, "You got it," before he walks over to the queue.

'_I got this.' _Carole really has to try hard as she closes her eyes, searching for a way to calm her nerves, to think that simple sentence true.

No more caffeine is definitely the right decision.

Hopefully only the first of many today.


	39. Of Monsters and Mysteries

**A/N: **That title makes it sound like a belated Halloween story. It's really not.

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**Chapter 39: Of Monsters and Mysteries**

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><p>As soon as Cooper is sitting with Carole he cannot hold back anymore, "How is Blaine? I had hoped to see him again sooner."<p>

It has been almost a week now since they saw each other. Cooper wants to take as long as Blaine needs to get to know him, but often that is not how the world works. Taking your time, with anything, seems more and more of a luxury in this world.

His agent in England, Eleanora Winters, called just yesterday. And since he has no idea yet how to talk to her about this, or to anyone really - if Blaine would even be okay with being known to people as his brother - Cooper got an earful from her about how he could do such a thing, fly over to the States to do a job and then just drop out at the last minute.

He had only been able to sigh to himself during that call and take the abuse. It has to look bad to Eleanora, Cooper knows that. After all, what else is she supposed to think? He hopes one day he will be able to explain to her what really had happened. How he had practically ran into his younger half-brother who he had thought to have been dead for so many, many years, and suddenly there he had been. _'No that does not sound strange at all,'_ Cooper had sat there with his phone in hand thinking, Eleanora still going on about his irresponsibility on the other end.

But that had been yesterday, today he is here, with Carole, someone who seems to understand so much, so much more than Cooper feels he has yet come to understand about Blaine. And that hurts. And Cooper knows, rationally, it should not, but it does.

"I need to know how he is, Carole. Please," he adds, pleading, as he finds Carole hesitating to answer.

"He," Carole stops dead after just the one word, afraid of saying something Cooper will take the wrong way. But in the end what else is there to do ... but say it? Was not she the one who had told Cooper the best thing he could do for Blaine, talking to Blaine, was being honest? So with a heavy sigh she says, "He ..., he is having a hard time."

Cooper's voice is low, small, when he brings out, "Did I ..., did I scare him that much?"

"Cooper," Carole says, reaching over the table top, taking Cooper's hand just lying there into her own, "It's not you. It's everything else. Everything he cannot help think about, obsess about whenever he thinks of you, sees you. And it is breaking his heart." Carole's voice is torn, tears sliding from her eyes before she even registers it herself. She quickly wipes at them with her free hand, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize for caring," Cooper says with a warm, soft smile. "I haven't even thanked you and your husband properly yet, not only for what you have done, what you are doing, for Blaine, but for bringing him back to me." And then Cooper is crying too, much harder than Carole, his breaths shaky, "I might never have found him ever again, I might never have found out he is even still alive if it wasn't for your family." There is quiet for a moment, then, "And I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew what he needs. What I can give him that he needs."

"He ..., for those last weeks, what he needed was time. Just, just time. Time, to be allowed to understand that not this whole world hates him, or just ... just wants to use him for something. That sharing yourself with someone else is enough to ..., is so much. He didn't ... he hadn't known he could be loved. That that is what someone as gentle as him deserves so very much. Instead of being ignored at best, hit bloody and blue and being bullied by his own family at worst. He had no place to feel safe."

"What does he need now?" Cooper asks, determined not to lose his focus among all the tears he cannot hold back listening to Carole.

"Reassurance. And that's actually why I asked to see you."

"Yes?"

"Yeah."

"What can I do?" Cooper asks.

"Can I ask you something _really_ personal? I ... I mean, you don't have to answer, but can I ask something?"

"Please do," Cooper nods, eyes searching out Carole's intently.

"You seem really outspoken to me, and you knew what to say to Blaine in the park ... ."

Cooper cuts in frowning, "Did I?" He cannot help it, after almost a full week of his brother refusing to see him again. Cooper had called several times and asked to even just talk on the phone. Without success. _'I must have done something wrong.'_

"I know with his unpredictable reactions it is sometimes so hard to keep thinking that you did, but you really did say the right things. Really. And yes it is confusing to him and overwhelming, but it must be that for you too in so many ways. And you did not just give up on him right there and then, you kept trying."

"I want Blaine to know that he is worth fighting for," Cooper brings out.

"And you trying is so much towards that already, much more to him especially than you might know. I think that is why he got so scared, because he does not understand why you do it. Why you care. Blaine cannot bring himself to believe that you might actually be doing it out of love for him."

"I love him so much," Cooper says in no more than a whisper.

"Then don't stop showing it. He is ..., he does not talk to me about it, I think not even to Kurt, but I suspect his father and grandfather, those people who kept abusing him, they must have had wild, violent mood swings, fueled by alcohole, judging from the little I have heard from Blaine. And I think that is why it takes him time to let anyone close now. He needs to see that that gentle nature is your true self, that you don't suddenly ..."

"Turn into a monster," Cooper finishes.

"Yes. Gosh, that question I have been meaning to ask ..., it is going to sound so strange now, like I planned all of this talk, which I didn't."

"Ask, please."

"Do you have any experience with therapy?"

"As in have I ever had any therapy myself?" Cooper tries to clarify.

Carole only nods in answer, staring into her cup while she sips some of her hot chocolate before it gets cold, and to calm her nerves.

Cooper frowns, only hesitating for seconds then replies, "Grief counselling, for almost two years. My grandmother insisted, after I retreated more and more from her when I first learned Blaine and mom had died." Cooper runs a hand through his hair, sighing, "Gosh, it sounds so weird saying that now, now that I know ... ." After a moment of silence, and a long drink from his coffee, Cooper adds with a small smile, "She even moved so she could take me out of the boarding school dorms but not out of the school entirely and not away from my friends. Said she wanted me to have a real home. I owe her everything. I was a total mess, so devastated, depressed."

"Would you want to talk to Blaine about that?" Carole asks, eyes still teary. "Because, I think, Blaine wishes for someone to open up to, but he cannot see himself talking to a complete stranger about it, a therapist, not yet. But he needs someone to talk to about _all of it_. Someone who has a connection to him, in some way. And I am not saying he will or should talk about everything with you...; all I know is he ... he won't talk to us, any of us."

"Not even Kurt?" Cooper frowns.

"Especially not him. I think, he is terrified of losing his love. Like ... like he cannot get past the idea that who he really is, who all this is turning him into cannot deserve love. He has let down so many walls since he first moved in with us, so many. More than a lot of people even have. Fear is just not something you can just strip off and throw out, just shut the door on and wait to be collected with your household trash."

"You think he would really talk to me?"

"If you allowed others to be there too, mostly Kurt and me. He's not ..., I don't think he is ready to be alone with you."

"How do you kn...," Cooper breaks off, afraid, really, of the answer.

"He had a nightmare, some nights ago," Carole cannot help pause, hoping she does not have to do that to Cooper.

But Cooper gets it already. You really can be too clever for your own good. "... about me. I am a monster already." That is when the light in Cooper's eyes flickers out, and it does not come back, not even in traces until Carole hugs him tight and he hugs back even tighter in response when they say goodbye later in the parking lot. All Cooper can think of right now, all thought a stabbing pain deep in his head, "What did I do? In his nightmare."

"You hit him. Like your step-dad and his grandfather used to do," Carole brings out eventually.

Cooper just sits there, for minutes, stare empty, left hand, in a fist, pressed against his own mouth, muscles, all over his body, jumping and jerking with all the tension trapped inside.

When his arm falls back to the table and his left hand's fingers dig harshly into his right, bare forearm, Cooper chokes out, "I'd ... I'd never."

"He knows that," Carole whispers. "He can't control it. When he first started being at our place his mind put me into one of his nightmares about your mom."

"He has nightmares about her too?" It comes out in a wet sob. It does not make sense to Cooper. The picture he has in his head of this kind, loving woman, not at all unlike Carole in how fiercely she seems to love. _'How can he have nightmares about you, Mom? How?'_

"He does," Carole breathes sadly.

"What can I do?" Cooper says then, words wrapped into more, choked back, sobs – the tears running free.

"I want to invite you to come around to our house. Spend time with us. Let him see you just being with us, and hopefully that will help him trust and just be and talk with you too."

Cooper is already nodding vigorously before Carole has even finished talking.

"How does dinner sound for a start? Tonight?"

Cooper smiles through his tears, whispers a "Yeah."

Carole is fully prepared to hold Blaine all night, for days, if all of this should go so very wrong. And she is all too painfully aware, there are no guarantees it won't.


	40. The Slice Of Life

**Getting Away**

**Chapter 40: The Slice Of Life**

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><p>Carole does not tell anyone Cooper is coming for dinner.<p>

That is, ... not until one hour before.

Maybe it is stupid, reckless even, maybe it is selfish – she cannot watch Blaine working himself half a day into another panic – or maybe, just maybe, it is exactly the right thing to do, not giving Blaine too much time to worry and just, '_Just let it happen,'_ the next meeting with Cooper; hoping that Blaine is more ready to face it, him, than he thinks himself.

"Guys," Carole says to the living room as a whole, her eyes on Kurt and Blaine though, sitting cuddled up on one of the couches, watching a rerun of some reality show about designers making over dogs' and cats' clothes for the new, upcoming season, Burt and Finn playing cards on the coffee table, "I invited Cooper to dinner tonight."

Blaine feels like someone has punched all the air out of his lungs.

He feels so dizzy, Kurt takes him into the garden to just stand there together in the fresh, cool early evening air. Kurt holds him lightly as Blaine tries to even out his chocked off, laboured breathing.

The hour until the doorbell rings passes so fast, Blaine feels like he has barely registered yet what is about to happen when it does.

Sitting down, with his half-brother for dinner ... _'I can do it. I can do it,' _he keeps repeating the thought, the hope, like a mantra in his head.

Kurt feels Blaine gripping his hand even tighter than just moments before as they round the corner into the kitchen.

And there they are, standing at the kitchen counter, Carole, Burt and ... _'Cooper.'_

Kurt and Blaine passed Finn on their way to the kitchen. He is still sitting in the living room, now racing desperately and determinately against the clock to finish some video game's next level. Carole has given him another fifteen more minutes _"Tops, Finn. Fifteen minutes tops,"_ before he has to put it all away and join the family for dinner.

It has taken Blaine more than eight minutes from hearing the doorbell to daring to make his way downstairs, Kurt's hand trapped in his in a death grip already with the first steps out of the bedroom, all the way tightening further and further.

Carole smiles at both of them as she sees them enter the kitchen.

When Cooper catches Carole's warm gaze directed right over his shoulder he knows who is there, "Blaine," he says friendly. Cooper turns to find his brother flinching at the simple mention of his name from Cooper's mouth, like someone had just raised a hand to hit him.

"Hi," Kurt says softly, more for Blaine's than Cooper's benefit, Cooper is sure.

"Hi," it is barely audible when the word passes Blaine's lips too, the boy half hidden behind Kurt. Blaine feels equally hurt and pathetic for it. _'Sixteen, I'm sixteen and hiding behind my boyfriend's back from ... from ...' _Blaine is not sure what, and he feels, he feels like he is a little child all over, right down to the bad coordination of his shaking limbs – less than a handful years old and all alone in his badly lit bedroom with, with ... someone, and yet with no one ..., no one there to protect him.

Blaine holds on to Kurt's hand like it is the only thing that keeps him standing where he is. Feeling Kurt's warm, soft hand holding his, Blaine is trying not to forget it is not like that anymore, that there are more people in this one room of this house that love him than he had had in all of his life just a few, fragile months ago.

He is trying so hard not to give in to the impulse.

He is trying so hard not to just ... just run out of this room, the house, get away from these thoughts breaking him open inside in ways he cannot process, does not know how.

This is dinner, breathing alone is hard enough – Blaine has no idea how there will be any room for food to go down that pipe in his throat tonight.

'_Fear,'_ Cooper knows the expression on Blaine's face, the half he can see from where he is standing.

At the dinner table, Cooper, only minutes later, sits between Burt and Carole. Finn to Burt's right, and Kurt to Carole's left.

Carole had asked Burt and Cooper to sit like this, had left the boys the choice about all the rest. She just hopes Blaine is okay where he has ended up, Finn sitting directly opposite of Cooper, Blaine slightly to Cooper's left, even more so now that Blaine just pulled his chair closer to Kurt's, at the head of the table Kurt is sitting at, with Burt at the opposite end of the furniture.

Blaine swallows hard, willing himself to let go of Kurt's hand, so he can pick up his spoon and start eating, but it feels just impossible to let go.

Blaine flinches when Kurt, wiggling their hands a little in the process, eventually lifts both of them, still linked, to rest diagonally across Blaine's legs, on Blaine's upper left thigh, slightly above the knee.

It takes Blaine a moment to get the hint, slip his own right hand out of Kurt's left and replace it with his own left. It feels like a weird game of twister, without the matt, but gosh is Blaine thankful for his extraordinarily attentive boyfriend tonight. He leans over and places a shaky kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth, before ducking his head, right hand's fingers scrambling for the spoon still when Kurt turns his head and places a kiss to Blaine's curls, "I love you."

"Love you," Blaine mumbles back, sounding heartbroken and so unsure if he is really allowed to say it. Cooper seemed cool about it last time, but Blaine feels torn inside at the sight of his half-brother. Thoughts still twisting around messily as he takes several tentative bites of food, _'He is not dad, he is not dad. Of course he is not, Silly, he does not even look like him. He's not even related to him. ... I am.'_

And then there is this whole different kind of nausea.

The sweat breaks out on his face first, then his hands.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks worriedly, Blaine suddenly white as a sheet.

"I am sorry," Blaine brings out past the bile already rising into his mouth as he stumbles away from the table towards the bathroom.

Kurt is on his heels, beside him on the bathroom floor, as Blaine throws up what little he has taken in at all, then dry-heaves for a minute or so more, stammering into the porcelain bowl in between, "I'm so sorry."

"Shh, shh," Kurt tries to sooth, running a hand softly up and down Blaine's back, the other resting gently on Blaine's left side, a reassuring, soft presence helping Blaine stay upright. "You did nothing wrong, Baby. Nothing at all."

"But it's me," Blaine says, after shakily wiping his mouth with some toilet paper, throwing it into the toilet, and limbs trembling getting back to his feet to flush it all down the drain.

He is leaning on the sink, breathing hard as he rinses his mouth and Kurt asks wearily, "What do you mean?"

Blaine, eyes following the dirt being carried away down into the drain by the fresh water pouring from the tap, just shakes his head in the end.

"Nothing."

"Blaine?" Kurt tries again, but the other boy is already out of the door, and on his way up the stairs, calling weakly, "I'll brush my teeth."

Kurt remains staying at the foot of the stairs.

"Everything okay, Kiddo?" Burt walks up to his son asking.

"He was sick," Kurt says, still staring up the staircase wordily.

Burt knows the look on his son's face, there is more, "And?"

"He said something ... strange," Kurt whispers.

"Yeah?" Burt prompts.

"I said he shouldn't feel bad, he had done nothing wrong, and he ... he just _'But it's me.'_" Only now does Kurt turn to face his dad, "I don't know what is happening in his head, Dad. How can I do anything for him if I don't understand? After everything ..., I still don't understand."

"Kiddo, you haven't done anything wrong either. You need to remember that too. This is really, really hard, all of it, for every one of us. We do this together. And now we even have Cooper wanting to help. It will get better. It already has gotten better. Right?"

"Yeah," Kurt whispers into his dad's shoulder as he is pulled into a deep hug.

"Now where did Blaine go?" Burt asks, and Kurt can hear the hint of worry.

"Wanted to brush his teeth," Kurt says quietly.

He is glad his son is not going there, but all Burt can think is, _'That shouldn't take this long.' _

"You go back and eat, I'll go check on him."

"He asked me not to follow him," well, not in so many words, but Kurt had heard it clearly implied.

"Well, lucky us, it is me going," Burt says with a warm smile and a half-chuckle.

Kurt goes back to the dinner table if only reluctantly, and Burt ... up the stairs.

The bathroom he passes is empty.

But the door to Kurt and Blaine's bedroom closed, for no apparent reason.

Burt knocks softly, but there is no answer, so he carefully pushes the door slowly open.

Blaine is sitting on the floor, back turned to the door, to Burt, and all the older man can see is the big, white bathroom towel spread out on the floor in front of the boy, Blaine kneeling half on top, half in front of it, splashes of red covering the fabric visible to Burt on Blaine's left and right.

Kurt had returned to the dinner table, only to choke down a handful of bites before getting back up, excusing himself for a second time, and heading up the stairs only to hear his dad's gasp, "Blaine!"

And Blaine's shouts, "No! NO!"

"Dad! Dad, what's wrong?"

Kurt is not prepared to find his boyfriend wrapped, shaking wildly, in Burt's arms, both kneeling on the bedroom floor, Blaine's hands wet, stained, ... red, "Don't look!" Blaine is shouting, "Please Kurt, don't look."

Kurt only realizes with four more, stiff, paralyzed steps into the room what his boyfriend is talking about.

There is a white sketch block resting spread out on a towel in the middle of the carpet, a glass with clouded water standing beside it, a palette of watercolours too, and two paint brushes, one stained black, the other in a glaring blood red.

It takes Kurt a moment to rip his eyes away from the stains of red colour on the towel, the red and black dominating the picture on the sketch block itself.

"Don't, please, don't look at the picture," Blaine is still begging as Burt tries to calm him with a hug, as strong as the one that day in the hallway that all of them have walked already today.

"Shh, shh, Baby," Kurt stumbles over to where Burt is still holding Blaine, trying to calm him, failing. "It's okay, look. Blaine, shh."

Kurt can tell from the way the sleeves on Blaine's cardigan are pushed up, from the way the paint is smeared further up Blaine's skin, that Burt has already checked, to make sure, _'It's only paint, red watercolour.'_ Grasping Blaine's hands both in his own, really only relieved at the touch that there is nothing sticky, nothing bloody about them, _'Just colour, just red watercolour,' _Kurt lets go one for a moment again, reluctantly, and reaches over to carefully put the cover sheet of the sketch block slowly back into place, trying his best not to smear the probably still wet paint. "Shhh, it's okay, Love. I got it. It's okay."

"I got him, Dad," Kurt adds a moment later, both arms already reaching around Blaine's shaking form.

"It's me," Blaine whimpers.

"What's you, Love?" Kurt tries softly, tears of fear and relief alike streaming now, hands running up and down Blaine's drawn in form, cowering against Kurt's chest.

"I'm the problem," Blaine sobs.

Alerted by the shouting coming from upstairs, Finn, Carole and Cooper are standing only feet away from where the boys are now, have seen enough to get an idea of what has been going on.

Cooper only caught the briefest of glimpses of his brother's painting before Kurt had covered it up, Blaine clearly more than uncomfortable with others seeing. But to Cooper it had looked like '... _like the outlines of a face',_ contorted in anger, mouth twisted, teeth bared like that of an angry, ravenous animal. Not only the face in a screaming red, but pools of it, everywhere, all over the sheet.

Burt asks them all to leave the room, adding softly to his wife who lingers the longest, "I'll stay with them."

"Do you really think that is such a g..."

"I'll stay, Honey," he says even softer but clearly determined, "You said it yourself, just days ago, we cannot build a bubble for him to live in. One day it will just burst. I know he trusts you, we both know that. Let me try and gain his trust too. Please! For him and all of us. Carole, please."

"If you need me ..."

"Downstairs? Living room?" Burt says gently.

"Yeah," she hums. And then Carole, heavy heart in her chest, turns on her heels.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Important – **this might be the last update this year. I am in need of a clear head for my studies, and planning and writing Getting Away takes up a lot of my brain powers. So it is time for me to take a fairly brief personal hiatus. I'll have to see as the weeks go by if I can maybe write for GA some more this year or not, time and energy wise. This approximation is just for you, so you don't have to wonder why it is if I don't update for a while.

But I will be back latest by late January 2014.

All the best to all of you meanwhile,

M


	41. Remains

A/N: Hi everyone, I wanted to give you a little something for the season of giving, so I wrote this, also because I miss you guys and the story so terribly much and I just could not help myself. Just a couple more weeks and I will be back fully! I cannot wait. I am sorry my answering your reviews to the last chapter will have to wait until then as well. I just really want to take my time with that, which I regrettably still cannot right now. But I won't forget about it, I promise. Thank you to each and every one of you lovelies who is with me in caring so much about this story.

Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it and to everyone who happens not to, and like me simply tries to enjoy good food and lovely company on cold winter days (which I LOVE - my favorite weather, not to mention the candles and cookies), I wish the happiest of times as well.

Love, and a brilliant couple of last days to this year, M

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**Chapter 41: Remains **

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><p>It is about breathing.<p>

... sitting here on the floor staring at the bookcase blocking the view onto the blank, crisp, light-blue wall ...

And Blaine is trying hard.

After all, he has learned over the years, _'No matter what, it's about not giving up trying.'_

Life is about that more than anything.

And Blaine has already known too many people in his life who had done just that, given up on themselves, ... on him.

So Blaine knows how much such a thing does hurt the people who love you, or are desperately trying to. That is why, why he holds on so fiercely, tries harder every day. Now more than ever, now that he for the first time fully trusts he in fact has people who love _'... me.'_

But still, the breaths won't come out or go in right. And the light in the room is too bright for his eyes to stop tearing.

And his memory of the world is too dark ... too scary with his eyelids closed. So being held, forced, wide open, Blaine's eyes have begun to burn minutes ago. Closing them would help ... the itching sting, not Blaine.

So clutching Kurt's right hand between his own two, fingers firmly intertwined, trying to focus on Kurt's heart beating under his right ear, Blaine stays curled into Kurt's hold, sitting now fully in Kurt's lap, Kurt's left arm protectively placed around him, warm and on the right side of heavy – it is a comforting weight.

The boy who has already given Kurt more happy days, more laughs, more love than Kurt had ever, EVER dared to hope for in all of his life, not just in Ohio, that boy is buried in an avalanche of pain, and there is nothing Kurt can do. _'Is there?'_

Blaine keeps staring point blank at the blocked wall, the bookcase, brimming over with more books of Blaine's than Kurt's – he has become a fast reader over the years of loneliness – brimming over with better and worse worlds, but worlds in which people find and have each other, _'... love.'_ So Blaine keeps staring ahead that longing in his mind to really feel love, Kurt's love, untainted by his past. He cannot help but wonder if it will ever be possible.

Blaine does not even notice, but Kurt looks up, as Burt, again standing beside the boys, having sat quietly on the bed for a while to give them time, space, clears his throat.

"Need somethin'? Anythin'?" Burt asks looking from Kurt to Blaine and back, searching out his son's gaze once more, whose own eyes had flickered back down to the boy in his arms for a moment.

There are no words, nothing that Kurt can think of to say. It feels like a blizzard is raging in his head, and he cannot see a single step ahead.

"Kurt?" Burt prompts again.

"Dad, I ... I...," the boy answers with a slow, lost looking, single shake of his head.

Burt is kneeling with the boys seconds later, hand warm and firm on Kurt's right shoulder, giving a loving squeeze meant to reassure that somehow _'... somehow this will all be okay, Son. It will.'_

Failing to offer so much as an appreciative smile for his dad trying to be here for them both, Kurt huffs his next breath. Thinking, _'Why do I have to be so useless?'_

Burt, hand still firm on Kurt's shoulder, is trying to catch Blaine's gaze now, but the boy just keeps staring right through him. Like it is too hard to even go looking for focus, let alone so much as try and find it.

So Burt sits down properly, moves in beside Kurt, gives him a literal shoulder to rest on as he keeps hold of the broken boy who has found a piece of himself today fitting too well into a place Blaine desperately wishes could forever take another shape. Never will.

No one like Burt will ever be his father. His own father will never love him. And Blaine is finding it impossible to return the hate, especially with all the world always telling him he should love that man.

Father's day, the advertising industry shoving it down his throat every year anew ..., only mother's day has ever been harder. Because, while his father is still around and with him a chance for change, no matter how astronomically small, downright imaginary, _'Mommy is ...' _"Mommy is gone," Blaine mouths too quietly for anyone to hear, mouth heaving like that of a fish on land a moment later, fighting for life.

The change in Blaine's breathing has Kurt pull him closer still.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice quivers. "Talk to me?"

"Hold me. ... can ... can you just ..., just hold me? Please?" Blaine barely whispers between shaken breaths.

Kurt places kiss after kiss into Blaine's curls, "Always."

It is the last soft whisper, the last words spoken in their bedroom that night, apart from Kurt's whispers of "I love you," "You are safe here, Blaine," "I got you," when they later lie curled up with each other in bed "I love you," Blaine already asleep, Kurt hoping his words are sinking in, reaching those places that need warmth, light, love.

Fighting their way towards each other, neither boy is about to give up, no pain can make them.


	42. Actions speak louder than

**A/N: **I cannot promise any regular updates for three more weeks, yet, but I did promise a late January chapter, and here it is. I hope it does not disappoint, especially after the long wait for it.

xo M

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><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**Chapter 42: Actions speak louder than ...**

* * *

><p>Blaine's heart is hammering wildly in his chest with every stroke.<p>

He cannot go back downstairs.

The thoughts, sharp, tearing, won't leave his head, stabbing away at his insides.

How is he supposed to ever let it all out, how can he not fight to keep it in forever? Even though keeping it in has slowly been killing him for years, has made him want to kill h... .

"It's not Cooper's fault. It's not his fault. He has done nothing wrong. Nothing. The problem, I'm, I'm the, the problem, I'm...," Blaine blubbers to himself as he tries desperately with every stroke of the paintbrush on the not-so-white-anymore to clear his mind.

There is this image piercing his eyes from the inside, an image he cannot stand and cannot shake, and he just needs to put it down somewhere, get it out, out of his mind. Even if he already knows if he succeeds it will only be for a short while.

He is so sick of looking at it, it had caused him to heave his stomach's contents into the toilet downstairs not even twenty minutes ago. He still feels sick. Maybe feels sick all over. He cannot tell. All he knows is the sharp pain in his gut is still there. He can tell when it comes to stay, it has been with him often enough in his life.

The whole night is going to be pain. The only way to stop it would be ripping out his own heart. And not too long ago he would still have seriously considered it but now there is someone attached to it. Blaine could not do anything to lose Kurt, is trying so hard to do nothing to hurt him. It had been one thing, trying to take care of himself when he had been all on his own, but tonight more than ever before he feels the added pressure of Kurt's love. Because Blaine knows too well, you loving someone means they can hurt you, more than anyone else. And now he is learning what someone loving you means, how you can tear them apart, on purpose, and maybe worse, by accident.

He does not register the red getting everywhere on his hands and even clothes as the paintbrush keeps slipping from his shaking fingers and landing smack on the palette of colours before he picks it back up again, just keeps, tries and keeps a rhythm to his strokes that somehow ties in with his wracked breathing.

"Blaine!"

Blaine almost kicks over the glass with water in it as he tries to make his limbs do more than scramble to the panic in his head, instincts screaming at him to try and hide _'The picture.' _"No! NO!"

But before Blaine can reach for the cover sheet he finds himself already being turned to face Burt, "Son, what are you ...?"

Blaine flinches hard as he feels Burt grab his hands, push his cardigan's sleeves even further up his forearms than they already are, feels the slick wetness of the paint smearing his skin, the distinct smell of it, earthy and warm in a strange, inexplicable way, intensifying.

Hearing Burt letting out a deep breath, a sigh of relief, he feels himself being pulled into the man's arms seconds later. "Kid," is all Burt says, voice full of dread and desperation.

And that is when Blaine remembers the picture again, lying still open, "Don't look. Please don't look!"

Before Burt can say anything in answer to what he has already seen, cannot unsee ever again, his focus is pulled back entirely from the picture to the boy in his arms. Blaine has started to shake heavily all over.

"Don't!" Blaine sobs out this time. And that is when Kurt reaches the room, it takes Blaine time to realize though, but when he does all he can think, all he can say is, all over, "Don't look! Please, Kurt, don't look."

After that everything is a blur to Blaine, he does not remember much at all except fear, that crushing fear, and breaths impossibly hard again, and then, head dizzy, he somehow finds himself wrapped tightly in Kurt's arms.

This is how it had happened, but tell that to Burt bolting upright in his bed that night, skin damp with sweat, hands shaking and balled into fists, he notices as he looks down on himself.

Carole is fast asleep beside him, exhausted.

Cooper had insisted on staying for a long time, left only after they had allowed him to catch a last glance at Blaine, by then thankfully asleep in Kurt's arms.

Cooper's stomach had been twisting wildly when he had left the house. He had pushed back tears with every step until he had been back in his hotel room, had sunk down behind the closed door, head gripped tightly in his hands, tugging on his own hair in desperation, as he had finally allowed the fear to fully sink in, the tears to come, _'What if that was the last time I ever get to see him?' _Cooper has no idea what he has done wrong. But he is sorry, _'So sorry.' _It is all he can keep thinking, as he still lies awake even now, hours later.

Burt knows that dread all too well, loss - even more so now waking up from a nightmare that had featured decidedly less paint, and much more bodily fluid. No wonder his hands are shaking after having had to press them to a boy's sliced open arms for what had seemed like hours before an ambulance had arrived. Even if it was only in a bad, really bad dream.

Burt still has no idea what has caused him to wake up, all he knows is he is glad something has woken him when it did as he walks out into the hall and hears a whimpering sound coming from Kurt and Blaine's room. _'I shouldn't have left them alone.'_

Pushing the ajar door further open he finds Blaine curled away from Kurt, in on himself, in one corner of the bed, blanket gripped tightly around himself, whimpering, "... no, no don't, no, please, no. Don't."

Without thinking Burt walks over sits down on the bed and pulls the sleeping boy, still wrapped tightly in the blanket, right into his arms. He has done this for Kurt so many times before, so many nights right after his mom's death, and many many more since, that Burt does it on instinct.

Kurt jolts awake from the sudden movement of the bed to find his dad holding Blaine, placing a kiss to Blaine's forehead and whispering soothingly to him, "Shhh, shh, no one's gonna hurt you, Blaine. Shhh."

Blaine wakes up a moment later, wrapped into arms, sure they must be ... "Kurt?"

But then he hears his boyfriend's voice from beside him, "Babe, it's my dad. Please don't panic. It's just dad."

Burt can feel Blaine balling up in his arms, curling up further on himself as soon as Kurt's words register fully, or maybe only half, letting him know it cannot be Kurt, so close.

Kurt had always welcomed the embrace, hugged back. Blaine does not. And Burt can feel nothing but the tension building further in the boys frame. The father has no idea what to do next. All he can do is wait, for Blaine to react ... in any way. For Blaine to tell him what he needs him to do.

Heart painfully squeezed in his chest, halfway on his way from nightmare to open panic, Blaine croaks out unsteady, "Can you please let go?" The tear in his voice shows the effort it really takes to bring out those seemingly ordinary words.

The wetness on one of his forearms only slowly registers with Burt. _'Tears,' _Burt feels sick, knowing in whatever part he too put them there, having made Blaine feel uncomfortable enough to cry, and not be able to help it. What really did Burt expect, ripping Blaine from his sleep, nightmares none the less. So Burt carefully does, lets go, heart heavy.

'_What have I done?' _Burt sits there, arms empty, watching Blaine scramble away from him into Kurt's arms.

'_What have I done?' _

It is sometimes with the best of intentions that we do the worst things possible.

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><p><strong>AN: **This following note is for someone who was so wonderful as to leave me a review but does not have an account on here. I want to talk to all of you though, so notes like the following, that is just what I do whenever that happens.

**Jackie – **Thank you so much for reviewing all those weeks ago, I finally, with the new chapter, get to write you the reply I had meant to get to you since then. I wish I could talk to you properly about how you are. If you want to chat just let me know and we will figure something out together. I feel like we'd have a lot to talk about. If you want, only if you want. My writing being able to move you is such a wonderful thing to hear, thank you. Your well wishes mean a lot to me. You already are brave, don't forget that, you would not be reading stories like this if you were running from your challenges. I think you looking for your own way of dealing with pain is very very brave, don't let others tell you it's wrong in any way just because it takes time. I am right in there with you, I am too in pain a lot of the time and still figuring out how to deal with it. Writing is obviously a big part of it for me, mainly because it is a space to grow in, and something no one can take away from me, so there is a sense of security in it I guess. I have found what makes all the difference to me really is trying, that I am okay inside to go on somehow no matter how bad the pain gets as long as I try my best and I know I am doing that to get through. Which more often than not means accomplishing little, tiny things day by day. I wish you only the best. And thank you, thank you again for sharing these things about yourself with me. And for the love you have shown me with your words more than anything.


	43. Not A Sound On The Pavement

**A/N: **I know I said no update for a while, okay, yeah, I lied. This one is a special one though. This chapter is to celebrate it being two years to the day that I started this story. I am curious to know who of you have been here with me from the get go. Drop me a line? I'd really love that. Or let me know when and how you came to join this ride. That would be equally fascinating to me. Anyways, **happy second birthday to all of us**. That's how story birthdays work, right?

And thank you so much, without you this story would not exist.

* * *

><p><strong>Getting Away<strong>

**Chapter 43: Not A Sound On The Pavement**

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><p>It is a memory, the best memory Blaine has of his entire life if you ask him.<p>

It might be because it is a more recent one, it might be because it involves Kurt ... and a safe home.

It is a thing so simple to most that they do not even note it in more than passing whenever it occurs.

It is just a hug, after all.

To Blaine it is ... it is so much more.

That day when Kurt and he, just friends back then, had gone to the movies in Lima, one early afternoon, together, for the first time, and later Blaine had driven him home, and they had had a hot chocolate on Kurt's living room couch and kept talking for hours, Kurt's Vogue collection strewn all around them – that had been a great day to Blaine, maybe even the day he fell for Kurt, not because he had felt ready but because he had not been able to help it. Or maybe he just gave up lying to himself ... that day.

Saying goodbye in the driveway of Kurt's home hours and hours later, midnight closing in on them, slowly but persistent, Kurt had shyly taken a step, then two, closer and put his arms around him. Slowly, Kurt had pulled himself closer to Blaine, Blaine closer to his own body, after a moment more, and just held him.

Really, it had just been a hug.

Kurt had shared many of those, long or short but always friendly, with Mercedes, Brittany, Tina, Rachel and even some with Finn at this point in his life. And there had been his mom, there are Carole and Burt, never short of hugs.

But Blaine ..., to Blaine who had to that day had no memory of anyone being gentle with him like that, no memory of being held with such care, ... for him, to him it had been so much ... more, and too much in ways.

Kurt had held on, had pulled back only lightly at Blaine's sharp intake of air right beside his ear. And then with another deep breath sucked sharply into Blaine's lungs, the shock audible, Blaine's arms had been around him, shaking but strong. And Blaine had not let go again as the tears had started coming, Kurt only realizing as Blaine had begun to openly sob in his arms.

It had been the one and only time back then in the first weeks of knowing each other that Blaine had ever shown Kurt that side of him, torn in ways neither of the boys had understood then. Torn in ways Blaine had done everything to keep under the tightest of wraps, back then.

But with Kurt's arms around him, that night, everything had slipped for a moment.

And Burt had stood in the doorway to their house that day, unease in his chest.

All evening he had witnessed, stunned, the relaxed interaction between Kurt and Blaine, the happiness.

He had tried to give them space, but the house is only so big, so he had bumped into them a couple of times, on the stairs, in the kitchen. And every time Blaine had flinched at the mere sight of him.

The first time he had thought he must have imagined it, but then it had happened again ... and again. He had not said anything that day, had not meant to walk in on the boys like that outside, had had no intention to spy. All he had wanted to do and eventually done that night was walk outside and offer Blaine to stay the night, it had been late already after all – the late autumn weather cold and unpredictable no reassurance to Burt that Blaine would make it safely home.

Little had Burt known back then, thinking of past bullying maybe making _'...the kid jumpy, if his life has been anythin' like Kurt's.' _And Burt had felt so sure it must have been with the way Blaine and Kurt got along as if they had gone through most of their lives together.

But _so_ little had he known back then.

And certainly not that it should not have been Blaine's way home that he should have been concerned about being safe.

Blaine had waved the offer off, and - now that Burt thinks about it - flinched, too, at the suggestion of Burt calling his parents to let them know he would stay.

So Burt had not called.

And Blaine had not stayed.

Blaine had not stayed in Lima at all that night, had driven past his own, his father's home, as fast as the speed-limit had allowed him.

He had made his way back to Westerville, Dalton. It was not exactly happiness awaiting, but at least he had his peace there most weekends, space to live through his nightmares, inevitable, as Blaine had believed to have learned them to be ... a long time ago.

But all he had dreamt about that night, upper body hugged tight against a pillow, had been Kurt's warm body touching his, and how safe it had made him feel, confused too, that there is someone in his life who wants to hold him _'... like this.'_

He had that night not been able to figure it out. That is, which he had felt more, being held. Safety, or confusion?

It had taken time, quite some of it after that, for the confusion part to really find its place in a tiny corner at the back of his mind, and for love to settle in.

But with every hug from Kurt - who had been more hesitant about them the rest of that weekend and the next week, and the next, but persistent as well - the sense of safety associated with Kurt, not just beside him but closer than that, had finally settled in.

That first night, though, Blaine had found himself so overwhelmed. And only the way he had already felt, with such certainty, about Kurt as a friend, trusting that boy without doubt, only that ... had made it okay.

The problem ..., the problem tonight, shaken from his nightmare in a safe home in Lima, Ohio, is - Blaine minutes later still trying to disappear in Kurt's hold - that Blaine, still, deep down does not know how he feels about Burt, not much more than he does know how to feel about Cooper in a way.

He knows ..., no, his head has stored away somewhere that positive association that feeling he knows he _should_ have attached to the labels _brother_, ... _father_.

But the truth is, the truth in his life right now is, no matter how much he longs to grow the same love for Burt as Kurt has for Burt, there are _things_ burned into his thoughts, causing reflexes that have kept him if not safe than alive for all this time.

They are things so hard to see, to feel _anything_ past, especially when sleep pushes them to the forefront of his mind. A sleep addled brain leaving Blaine feeling most defenceless. It is not for no reason that exhaustion, not just physical either, had always played into Blaine's need to get away. And Blaine when asked would be pressed hard to think of many times in his life in the last ... _years_, in which he had not felt exhausted.

All that is part of why he cannot let anyone look at those pictures, many of them having been drawn or painted when the _real_, the _deep_ pain hits.

Blaine does not want the people he cares about, is trying to think off in only positive ways, to _ever_ think they are in any way about them.

And Blaine would not have the words to explain any of what they would see, he feels too certain.

He feels sure that in a show and tell he would fail spectacularly at the tell part.

But with no words ... can there be a moving forward?

After Blaine has calmed down again in Kurt's arms, Burt long gone, he thinks about it for an even longer time, how that would work _'... finding words.'_

He knows he needs them. And reading all those books and articles with Kurt, and Carole, has given him some. And he uses them to talk a little more about his family, and school, and how he feels about ... others.

He has no idea how to talk about himself.

And he is growing increasingly aware now that that is what makes him feel so trapped, still locked away inside himself.

He needs to talk.

And he is beginning to know it.


	44. Love Alone

**A/N: **Hi! So this is mainly to let you guys know, I have not and I will not abandon this story. Life is a challenge for everyone. And I am still trying to figure mine out, so that got in the way of writing, still does. I am doing my best to overcome it all, I dearly hope you can be patient with me, and enjoy this chapter despite its brevity and the long time it has take me to will it into existence at all. I just could not let a whole year pass without updating at all. That seemed far too morbid somehow. I love you guys. I love this story. And I am 100% dedicated to seeing it through, together with you guys if you are willing to stick around. Don't give up on me.

Love, M

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><p><strong>Getting Away <strong>

**Chapter 44: Love Alone**

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><p>What if the person you love most in this world cannot give you that which you need ... most?<p>

That is not how this whole thing had started ...

... but with Cooper gone one week later, leaving Blaine all the materials about their mother behind, feeling like there is nothing he can do for his little brother right now, and with Blaine asking the day after, eyes still cried red and swollen, "Burt? Can I have a room of my own? Please!" ... Kurt spends whole days in bed, numb and crying. Confused. Helpless. 'What have I done wrong?'

Carole keeps checking in on him, keeps cuddling up with him on his bed, but with Blaine locking himself away Kurt suddenly feels more helpless and nauseous than he has since that very first night Blaine had disappeared without a single trace.

They see each other at school, obviously. And at dinner time. But even then Kurt does not really get to see his Blaine at all, just that, to Kurt, horrendous behaviour Blaine turns on to keep the adults in his life satisfied.

Kurt is beyond terrified, and one afternoon cannot take it anymore. Eyes and cheeks still wet with tears he storms out of his room ... and into Blaine's. Throwing the door open without knocking, finding a startled Blaine rushing to stand up and hide it from Kurt's eyes, whatever it is that is currently displayed on Blaine's computer screen. Carole had offered Blaine her _old_ laptop the day after he had asked Burt to move into a separate room, saying she was about to replace it with a newer model anyway very soon. Blaine had had his suspicions, but he had known there and then arguing with Carole would be pointless, so he had said "Thank you," baked Carole's favourite cookies for her the next day and gone on with his life. A different life, as it had turned out quickly, with such a thing as truly private internet access, not that Kurt had tried to control him there before in any way, they had just always, it seemes to Blaine now, _always _shared it all.

Kurt tries to peek past Blaine's form at whatever it is he is trying to play down.

Blaine quickly catches on, "Kurt, please don't."

"Am I loosing you?" Kurt does not sound angry, just ... just lost, and Blaine can hear it too.

Still it is a shock when after days and days of absence mental and physical, Kurt finds himself wrapped in his boyfriends arms, grip on Kurt's back firm and reassuring, and Kurt finds himself sacking into the embrace ... bawling his eyes out at the very first touch. "Am I loosing you?" Kurt chokes out again, voice wet with tears.

"You are not losing me. You will never lose me, Kurt. I love you," Blaine answers voice serious, and only then does he feel Kurt's arms come up and close around him. "I am sorry I scared you. I needed some time."

"I know."

"I still need time," Blaine hesitantly adds then in a barely audible whisper.

"I know. ... I know. Just don't ...," Kurt takes a breath that has Blaine feels all of the boy's body shudder in his arms, "Just don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving. I promise, I am doing all I can to get to you. ... to get to me, to us. I want you in my life, and your family and mine, I mean ... Cooper. I don't want to break anyone's heart. Least of all yours."

They keep standing there, both boys eyes closed, grasps on each other firm, heads resting against each other, until they hear Finn calling them for dinner downstairs.

It is the first time they are holding hands all through dinner again under the table in what feels like an eternity.


End file.
